


Fifty shades of lies

by MariaPurt



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Drama & Romance, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, When you cannot kiss someone's pain away, serquel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPurt/pseuds/MariaPurt
Summary: Raquel is shot dead during the second heist, but five years later Sergio learns she is alive. Bit by bit he figures out the mystery behind her disappearance and how they can go on with their life.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 721
Kudos: 723





	1. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big cheery thank you to Natz for reading this and saying it's ok. I don't think I'd otherwise get brave enough to post it any time soon.  
> You can find me here: twitter.com/MariaPurt

“Did you see it?” a voice sounds in the back of his mind and at first he doesn’t pay attention. “Did you see it?” she repeats, and her tone makes him jerk in realization: she is sobbing.

Sergio frowns, watching Paula who is now crying out loud. It takes him a moment to get back to reality, and then he jumps up from his bed, sleep wearing off immediately.

“What, what’s wrong?”

He hasn’t seen her so shaken for a very long time; devastated, mortified. With trembling hands she extends her tablet to Sergio, and he freezes when he sees the title on the screen. It can’t be.

“They’re saying they’ve found mom,” Paula cries under her breath, panting.

Sergio shakes his head, rewinding the news clip, turns the volume up.

“It’s been over five years after the biggest bank robbery in history of Spain, and the Police finally managed to catch one of the masterminds behind the crime. Details are yet to be revealed and statements to be made, but our sources confirm that the infamous Raquel Murillo, a former Inspector who was later proven to be working with the robbers has touched Spanish soil this morning…”

No video footage. No photo.

Sergio sighs and rubs his forehead. Poor Paula. He pulls her to his chest, feeling her sobs with his entire body and her tears wetting his shoulder. He can’t believe this is true, a million logical explanations why this cannot be real running through his head, and yet, a tiny seed of hope for a miracle is already there. His mind is no longer in this room or even on this continent. It’s _there_ , making arrangements and digging out old contacts he’ll need to go back to Spain.

A wave of self loathing is ready to overwhelm him for a millionth time. He should’ve searched better, he should’ve tried harder, he…

“I have to go to Spain,” Paula mumbles through tears and Sergio’s mind crashes back into reality.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s my mom!”

“Look, Paula, _look_ ,” he squeezes her shoulders, trying to get her attention. She is too emotional, probably having watched this video way too many times before she came to Sergio’s bedroom. “Paula, please, just _think_. Why aren’t they showing her? She’s one of the most wanted criminals in Spanish history, if they really have her, why aren’t they showing her on the news?”

The girl shrugs and bites her lower lip.

Raising a child isn’t easy. Only, Paula isn’t a _child_ anymore, Sergio reminds himself. She’s a teenager whom he caught with a yet another boyfriend in her bedroom last night.

“You said she was _dead_ ,” her voice suddenly sounds much older than Paula’s age. Loss and anger do that to people. “Why did you?” her anger cannot keep her from sobbing for long.

“Because it was…”

What he believed to be true. What he couldn’t prove to be false. Sergio takes a deep breath, his heartache back in all its glory. Raquel’s last moments, her last words echo in his ears. And then the two gunshots.

“I need to go to her,” Paula whispers, and a stream of cold sweat runs down Sergio’s back. There are two ways this whole thing can go down, and neither of them is good.

There’s been a change in political course in Spain, and it is possible they decided to try and solve the biggest case of modern time to score some points. Lying about Raquel being alive won’t give them the entire gang, but their math is correct: it’ll give them him, Sergio. It hurts him to acknowledge that this is the most probable scenario: Raquel still being dead and a trap waiting for him the moment he lands in Spain… But then there’s a glimpse of hope that… Sergio closes his eyes so tight it almost hurts.

That Raquel is alive…

For months he didn’t believe police had killed her. He did everything he could to find her, but _everything_ was against him. She _was_ dead, even Angel unknowingly confirmed it when he quietly cried in his car… But what if the government actually did fake Raquel’s death and kept her locked up somewhere all these years?

Sergio’s heart stops as terror fills his chest… What have they done to her.

He breathes out slowly, letting the Professor, the emotionless man who always has a plan, take over.

If Raquel is really alive after all these years in captivity, that is not the mother any child should see.

Sergio looks at Paula and he cannot bring himself to say it out loud. How do you explain this to a fifteen year old girl who’s been grieving her mother for a third of her life and now thinks she is getting her back? He knows Paula is not a child anymore, but these things… these things hurt regardless of age.

He _knows_.

“You’re underage, Paula, what if something goes wrong and you are stuck in Spain? You can’t risk…”

“Sergio!” she yells and hits his chest with her palm.

He rushes to explain himself, “What if they’re mistaken, what if it’s not her, what…”

“And what if it is?”

“Then she’s a wanted criminal and they will probably not let you see her anyway.”

“They will allow family,” she tilts her head. “And right now her only family there are my aunt and my father.”

This girl inherited all the best and most annoying traits from her mother. He cannot argue with her logic, and yet, he cannot break the promise he’d given to Raquel before everything went to hell. He swore he’d take care of Paula no matter what, and he’s going to stay true to his word even if it means lying.

“Here’s a deal. I will go and see her. If it’s really her… Paula,” he shakes her and she stares him in the eyes. “If it’s really _her_ , you’ll be on the next flight to Madrid.”

She nods.

He sighs.

It takes his contacts two days and an enormous amount of money to arrange him a new identity and clean papers. News claim Raquel is in a hospital, so Sergio’s documents say he is a doctor coming to Spain for work and a better life. His spoken Russian comes in handy when he has to fly to Moscow to make his legend even more believable: from there he takes a direct plane to Madrid, praying there is a third option he just hasn’t thought of.

It feels strange to walk through the airport, and Sergio’s heart skips a bit when he approaches the passport control. He hands over his passport, greeting the officer with his fake Russian accent.

“Vladymir Gorokhov.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Sergio smiles with the corners of his mouth.

“You have a working visa,” the officer states, comparing the photo inside Sergio’s passport to Sergio’s sleepless pale face. He’s shaved and he’s dyed his hair grey and his makeup gives him extra 20 years, but he wonders if this is enough. The pause lasts forever, and then to Sergio’s horror, officer picks up a phone and calls someone. He cannot hear what the conversation is about, but it has something to do with him, because the officer keeps looking at the pages of his passport.

Looking around, Sergio fears he’ll spot police approaching him. It’s not that he’s not ready for it. He is, and should they arrest him on the spot, there is an almost perfect plan that his associates will put into motion to save him. But that will take time. The time that he’d rather spend getting close to Raquel if that is really her (by now the chances have increased sufficiently as one of his contacts was even able to find out what hospital she is in… Truth be told, the name of the hospital makes Sergio even more worried).

After what feels like forever, the officer puts down the phone.

“Please show me your work invitation and insurance,” he addresses Sergio. And then he’s through. Sergio exhales with relief as he collects his suitcase and passes through custom security without a single officer even looking at him.

He exits and heads to the bus stop. No better way to lose whoever might be following him than using public transport. A few stops into the city he hops off, walks a few blocks and takes subway. He meets his contact after three more changes, and then they drive.

The safe house is on the outskirts of Madrid, and more of his hired muscle is awaiting him there. He doesn’t want to risk sending someone for reconnaissance: too many new people inside the hospital might seem suspicious, so he’ll go by himself.

“I’m just gonna type you in as a new doctor for the next shift…” his tech guy announces, pulling Sergio out of his thoughts.

“No,” he protests and gets a surprised look as a response. “Not a doctor,” Sergio adds in softer voice, fixing his glasses. “There are too few of them, too much attention. Who’s got the same access, but no one ever remembers their names and faces?”

For a few moments there is silence.

“A nurse,” Sergio finishes. “I’ll be pretty much invisible right in front of their noses. Make me a nurse.”

That will do. He sends one of his associates to buy off a nurse from the closest shift, and then they put him as a substitute, rigging the data to make it look like he’s been hired permanently. Practically unlimited funds do wonders and make almost anything possible.

Key word, _almost_ , Sergio slouches at the thought. Unlimited funds couldn’t save the woman he loved. Trembling in anticipation, he approaches the hospital, looking around warily.

There are guards at the entrance, and it takes Sergio a few minutes to line up and have his documents checked with a quick glance. He walks in, holding his breath. This _isn't_ him. He _plans_ things, taking every little detail into consideration, every possible twist and turn, covers every angle. But right now he’s stepping onto a slippery ground of improvisation. He hates it, but he knows there’s no other choice. He cannot afford to waste time forming a comprehensive plan. He _needs_ to get to Raquel – if that is really _her_ , he reminds himself – as soon as possible. He needs to _get her out_ of here. As soon as possible. There are more guards inside the waiting area, but to Sergio’s relief hospital seems to be operating business as usual. 

The corridors, the lights, the smell, the chatter… Everything reminds him of his childhood. Of his late father. Sergio wishes this feeling away, but it’s there, lingering in the back of his mind, bringing all kinds of insecurities. It gives him a mix of relief and fear and ease and hopelessness. It hurts, he finally admits to himself, clenching his fists as he approaches the registry. Dwelling on the past will not help him right now, Sergio reminds himself, but boy did he expect it to be so hard to be back to a hospital…

It takes them just a few minutes to check his documents, him already being in the system leaves no questions to be asked. And then it’s time for him to get acquainted with how it all works. The old man who verified Sergio picks up a phone and soon there is a girl in the doorway.

“Gabriela, señor Gorokhov here is our latest addition to the nurse team. Would you please show him around?”

The girl nods and smiles. She cannot be older than 30, Sergio notes to himself. Which means she was in her early twenties when the Royal Mint operation took place, Sergio pieces together in his mind, following the girl through the corridor. If she was here in Madrid, he is almost certain she’d been on _his_ side back then, he is almost certain she was among the protesters. An extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt him now. He’ll use any help he can get.

“So you’re from Russia?” she turns around to look at him as she asks. Sergio nods.

“I’m Vladymir,” he nods. “Nice to meet you, Gabriela.”

“Likewise. ”

As they walk, Sergio takes note of the armed guards, again. This would take an army to get through them all. An army and a lot of collateral, he thinks. There needs to be another way. He _wants_ there to be another way, but then he sees _her_ , or rather, what is _left_ of her, and a bloodbath doesn’t sound so wrong anymore.

He stops abruptly, his eyes wide open, staring at the woman he loved so dearly he was willing to give up everything. Come to think of it, he still is. Sergio fights an urge to press a palm to his mouth to keep himself from screaming. Air gets stuck in his throat as he is unable to make a single step further, even though he desperately wants to run to her. His legs turn into cotton, and they are on fire along with the rest of his body, he can even smell the burning flesh.

He cannot nail what it is about her that strikes him the hardest: her gray hair, her wrinkled emotionless face with twisted curved lips and a big scar going from a corner of her mouth all the way to the ear, or the fact that she is so thin it seems she hasn’t eaten in months.

“Raquel Murillo,” Gabriela tells him. “There’s been a lot of news about her on TV lately, so be ready, reporters might approach you. You’ve also seen a lot of police presence when you came, right? There might be even more, we’ve already had two attempts to break her out. People went crazy and they haven’t even seen her yet…”

“Raquel,” Sergio repeats carefully. “ _Raquel Murillo_ ,” he adds louder, hoping she will recognize his voice despite his masquerade. “I’ve seen the news, didn’t expect I’d meet her though,” he turns his head slightly to Gabriela, but keeps his eyes where they were, still waiting for the tiniest reaction. Raquel remains motionless, his voice having no effect.

“There’s a lot of work with her,” Gabriela continues. “My former colleague quit after just a few days.”

If Sergio could think right now, he’d take note how _he_ was the one to pay off that other nurse not to come back to work. But he can’t. All he can do is stand there as a ghost of himself. Deep down he almost wishes _this_ wasn’t Raquel. He feels ashamed of this thought, but it’s there.

“She is blind, so every few hours you’ll have to take her to the restroom,” Gabriela motions towards Raquel. “Don’t expect any reaction, she hasn’t said a single word since we got her, and…”

She is so small. Much smaller than he remembers. He desperately wants to wrap her in his arms. To kneel before her, pull her tight to his chest and beg for her forgiveness. If only he had been more persistent, if only he didn’t let her come back to Spain, if only he convinced her to stay in Palawan… None of this would have happened.

“…and she cannot chew, so only soft food and liquids,” his new colleague informs with a hint of sadness in her voice, and Sergio automatically – silently – adds ‘no mushrooms, because she’s allergic’. It almost makes him cry. “Her jaw was dislocated too many times, and…” that’s when Sergio realizes why Raquel’s face seems _so_ different. Her deformed jaw line, her curved lips, her asymmetrical sagging cheeks… She misses teeth, a lot of them, if not all. He can’t tell, but this new piece of information kicks the ground from under his feet, and he feels like he’s falling. The girl in front of him continues to explain the feeding procedure, but he cannot hear her. The contents of his stomach are about to come out.

What have they done to Raquel. He feels like fainting and has to take a deep breath to steady himself. This is bad. This is so bad. This is so much worse than he’s imagined.

“Goodness,” he exhales and swallows hard, and the girl nods understandingly.

“I really wonder if she knows what is happening,” the girl sighs thoughtfully and tucks Raquel’s hair behind the ear. “You know, I actually hated her at the beginning… Like, when she chose to free a daughter of some foreign politician instead of a bunch of our kids.”

Sergio coughs. That was a necessary evil, but it doesn’t make it any less evil after all.

“I’m… sure she had her reasons,” he probes without visible enthusiasm, unable to move his eyes away from Raquel. With her back bent almost unnaturally and her head leaning forward, he’d mistake her for someone’s great grandmother if he saw her in the street.

The girl shrugs.

“Just watch out. She gets these episodes, no triggers, just… snap,” she moves her fingers, showing the sound she means, and then turns her head to look at another patient. Something catches the girl’s attention, and with a loud sigh she takes off, leaving Sergio standing in front of Raquel.

Still in shock, he squats in front of her, leveling himself below her to give a sense of safety. He looks in her eyes, hoping she’ll glance at him even though she won’t be able to recognize him in disguise. Then he remembers she cannot see, and it’s like a punch to his chest once again. He lowers his head and closes his eyes.

“Raquel?” he calls her quietly. “Raquel, it’s me, Sergio. I’m so sorry. So… So… So sorry.”

She doesn’t react, if only her fingers slow down a little.

“This is me, Raquel,” he continues. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you hear me? I’ll get you out of here…” it gets too hard for him to keep his voice from breaking.

“She’s non-responsive, but it’s only been a few days. I’m optimistic,” Gabriela appears from behind and motions for him to follow her as their tour around the facility continues. It takes him an hour to come back, and he finds Raquel in the same exact spot. The same exact position. He looks at her face, afraid to come any closer than he’s already standing.

“Raquel, can you hear me? It’s Sergio,” he speaks softly. No reaction. “I’ll get you out of here, I promise, I’ll get you to your daughter, to Paula. And to your mother. Raquel,” his voice cracks and, as he sees another nurse approach, he walks away before he can no longer hold the tears. He fills a few forms and tucks a few patients to make sure he doesn’t look too interested in just one of them. Then he heads to the kitchen and grabs a few small items. Having suppressed _some_ of his panic, he is finally _thinking_. He is finally trying to come up with a plan, and for that, he wants to know just how far Raquel is gone.

He approaches her again, seeing his colleague busy with someone else, and takes a deep breath.

“Raquel, I know you’re scared. I’m scared too,” he speaks slowly and quietly close to her ear. “Please come back to me. Please.”

Sitting in front of her, Sergio gently puts her hand onto his, and for a few seconds he covers it with his second hand to sooth her. Then slowly – making sure not to scare her with anything sudden – he moves a tiny jar of guava jam to her nose, letting her inhale the smell just once. She loved it back in Palawan, and he sees how her breathing fastens just a little, she inhales again, visibly wanting to smell it once more. He lets her. And then removes the jar, and waits for her to calm down. Then he puts a slice of tomato in front of her nose for a brief moment - no reaction. Same result comes from a few more items, and then he decides to take a bit more risk and uses bitter balm. Raquel’s hand tenses as she almost pulls it away from him, her nose wrinkling. Sergio watches her carefully, sighs and then replaces the balm with a tiny container of coffee beans.

Raquel freezes.

He tries some mint - and to his relief he can feel Raquel’s hand relax on his again, her fingers bend just a little as if to take hold of him. She inhales deeper than before, aiming to get as much of this smell as possible. He wishes he’d have her favorite perfume with him, but somehow he never thought to bring it from the Philippines…

She _is_ responsive, he nods to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. She _is_. But mostly so to the personal memories, apparently hidden deep enough to stay unharmed.

With a deep breath, he puts her hand back onto her lap and gets up. As far as he can see, she doesn’t lift her face towards him as he leaves. She just keeps on sitting, her expression blank, but he’s already got hope, and that’s good enough. Now he better attend to other patients before someone starts wondering why he pays so much attention to just one…

It is Raquel’s crying that makes Sergio freeze on the other side of the hall. At first he doesn’t realize it _is_ her, screams being too wild and loud and ferocious, he’s never heard her voice in so much distress. But then it hits Sergio – for a few moments he sees nothing but darkness. He is in the middle of administering an IV, there is no way he can just leave, but he hurries up. And this is when it gets worse, because the faster his heartbeat gets, the harder it is to aim the needle. He misses the patient’s vein twice, each time earning a painful groan from the old man in front of him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes drily without even hearing his own words. All there is for him are Raquel’s screams and his own blood pounding in his ears as his panic rises.

The old man nods understandingly. He hears the screams too, they sound disturbing.

As soon as Sergio is done, he practically runs through the corridor, and then slows down, seeing Gabriela and three other – male – nurses holding Raquel on a bed. They’re almost done tying her up when he approaches.

“Is there… something I can do?” he inquires, unable to look away from Raquel’s distressed reddened face. Her mouth is open, reveling toothless gums, cheeks are all wet and there’s a net of broken capillaries under the skin. She gasps for air, and cries, but the sounds are becoming slightly quieter.

“I’ve already injected her with a sedative,” Gabriela responds without turning her face to Sergio. “She just…” she snaps her fingers to show how quickly Raquel’s situation escalated.

“But this has happened before, right?” he asks worriedly.

“Not like this, no. The other times meds were enough to calm her down. Seems we’re gonna have to keep a close eye on her overnight. Let’s give it a few minutes,” she motions to the other male nurses and they leave.

He glances at her one last time before he has to follow Gabriela to their other patients, and then returns, hoping to find Raquel asleep. She is still struggling. Uncertain, he comes closer. This can’t be good.

He stands above her bed, watching her restless features. Raquel is pulling against the soft restraints, helplessly trying to free her hands and feet. Sergio frowns. With the amount of sedatives she’s been injected, she should be out by now. There is no way she can be awake. Yet, her movements get more and more aggressive, and Raquel moans and then cries out quietly. Again and again. He looks around to make sure nobody’s watching him, and then takes the final step towards her, places his palm on her forehead soothingly. Her skin is wet and warm. For a moment he feels it’s working, and Raquel’s hysteria subsides, but then she pulls against her restraints even harder, moving her head chaotically.

“Please, Raquel, please,” he begs into her ear, his own voice about to crack into sobs.

And then he breaks. He cannot watch her like this anymore. Sergio glances around one last time, and then reaches out to untie the belts holding Raquel pressed to the bed. He knows she’ll hit him the moment her hands are not restrained, and she does. Her seizure-like movements are uncontrollable, and it takes all of Sergio to hold her tight to remove the belts. It took three men to put her down just a few minutes ago, he reminds himself. He might very much get in trouble for freeing her if she injures herself… Or him. Or anybody else. But he would rather hold her in his arms right now. He keeps pleading with her, whispering into her ear, ready for anything, and just hoping she won’t switch from groaning to a full mode screaming… But the moment she is no longer pinned to the bed, Raquel’s fight is over. She rolls from her back to her side, putting her palms together close to her face and drawing her knees to her chest. Sergio watches her in astonishment as she peacefully drifts to sleep in a fetal position.

All she wanted was to lie on her side. Not on her back. That’s all the problem was, he chuckles.

He rubs his eyes to stop imagining why Raquel is so distressed when put on her back. He better not think about it. _Not now_.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it all the way here, THANK YOU. I know it wasn't a pleasant ride, and I'll understand if you won't want to read my stories ever again. But if there is something - anything at all - you'd like to say about this story, that would mean a lot to me. Feedback is the food of a ficwriter. I'm always excited to chat about Serquel.
> 
> P.S. And here's something to cheer you up before you leave. A hot Serquel tango: www.youtube.com/watch?v=beUZdzPChLU


	2. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG thank you SO MUCH for the feedback on the first chapter. I never expected that, and ultimately this update being ready so soon is completely your doing. All those comments were such an inspiration!  
> A big sparkling thank you to Natz for proofreading this <3

As the night goes, Sergio keeps an eye on Raquel, and to his relief she remains as she is: on her left side, deep asleep. He watches her in the dim light, a rare sound of someone’s footsteps being the only noise beside snoring. Her face seems relaxed, but Sergio can see her eyelids tremble just a little. His hand freezes an inch from her cheek and he caresses the air next to her skin. He fears he’d wake her if he touched her.

Five years, he gasps under his breath silently. He wasted _five years_ of her life, because he was too naïve, too weak, too… _emotionally involved_ , he spats. Looking back at it all, he can’t grasp why it only took him a few months to give up on the woman he loved.

It is ironic that _she_ _never_ gave up on _him_ , Sergio thinks bitterly, and on autopilot fixes the blanket on Raquel’s shoulder even though it is perfectly fine. Because if she _did_ , he’d not be here. He’d probably be somewhere in a cell, or six feet under. They’d come for him. They’d know where to find him, and they’d come for him.

He tackles a flannel collar of Raquel’s shirt, his movement weightless. The hospital wing is completely quiet, and Sergio forces himself away from her bed. He’s got work to do.

Silently, he walks across the hall, checking up on sleeping patients, and then glances at the closed door to the corridor. Nurses should be in other parts of the floor right now, so he rushes to the kitchen and grabs the thermos he left there when he first came. It takes a few minutes to get two micro cameras hidden inside, and then Sergio rushes back. He places them both aimed at Raquel from different angles. Their signal won’t get far, just outside the hospital – but that will be enough to transfer the footage to a laptop in the parking lot. And from there it can be sent anywhere he needs.

Without sound, but at least he’ll be able to see she’s alright when he’s not here.

He hopes he’ll be able to get Raquel out when he comes next time. He’s not sure, though.

When the morning comes and his shift is almost over, Sergio stops by Raquel’s bed one last time. His heart aches, but he needs to leave now to avoid any suspicions. In his mind a plan how to get her out of here slowly forms. It will be hard with all the security. It will be challenging with Raquel’s current state. He’ll need help to get her out. And _that_ won’t even be the hardest part, he admits to himself unwillingly.

The hardest part will be _fixing_ her. Maybe not completely, but he wants to believe the strong woman he’s fallen in love with all those years ago is still inside. As he walks down the corridor towards the changing room, he spots a familiar face. It takes a second, and then Sergio knows he cannot be wrong. He’s studied this man’s profile among others on the plane from Moscow.

He’s an Intelligence agent.

Pretending to have forgotten something upstairs, Sergio follows the guy all the way back to the section where Raquel is. He watches from a distance how the agent talks to a doctor and then to the other nurses whose shift has just begun. They aren’t shy to show the guy just how unwelcome he is: he constantly ends up in their way, even though he visibly tries not to.

At some point he stands behind a nurse’s back while she spoon feeds Raquel, and Sergio can see how the old woman drops a plastic food container onto the agent’s pants. He curses. Sergio frowns, noting the nurse’s face as a potential ally.

To Sergio’s surprise, the agent doesn’t take off just because his shoes and pants got dirty. He bends over and watches Raquel’s face. And then – it seems – tries talking to her. Sergio already knows how that’s going to go, so he chuckles bitterly. At this point he can no longer plausibly just stand at the corner, so he kneels and pretends to search for the button he’s just torn off and dropped behind the stretcher.

With all his heart he wishes he could hear what the agent is saying to Raquel. Whatever it is, the guy seems to be rather disappointed when he gets zero response. Annoyed, he straightens up and heads away. Sergio follows him all the way to a bathroom.

His heart racing, Sergio stops just outside the door. Going in means drawing too much attention, even though he can clearly hear the agent talking on a phone with someone. Damn it.

There isn’t much of a crowd outside the hospital, and if Intelligence or CNI decide to move Raquel and hide her yet again, there isn’t much that can stop them. The two associates in the parking lot Sergio hired to transfer video signal won’t be enough of a muscle. Damn. Damn. Damn. He should’ve thought of it, he should’ve generated more public pressure, more attention. 

He stands there quietly, leaning onto the door, praying no one walks by. It’d be hard to explain why he is trying to listen in on something that’s going on in a bathroom. At first he cannot catch the exact words as the heartbeat echoes loud in his years. But after a few moments Sergio calms down, his panic subsides.

“… a vegetable, colonel. A useless vegetable. Might as well just forget she exists, media won’t stay long on this… No, sir, she doesn’t. Not even where she is now, let alone where she was kept or by whom… That, either… Well, I’m afraid if we put her in prison, she’ll only gain more popularity among people, sir… Yes…”

Sergio hears someone’s steps approach, and he quickly moves away from the door. When a young nurse disappears around the corner, he rushes back to the door.

“… idea, sir. I’ll call a press conference immediately.”

There is no more conversation coming from inside the toilet, and Sergio rushes away before he is spotted. He takes his time to change clothes and get a cup of coffee, trying to understand how he should proceed now. What the agent said on the phone means they’re not planning to put Raquel away… But it also gives no other indications as to what their plan is. As Sergio slowly walks out of the changing room and heads for the exit, he hears a familiar voice call him from behind.

“You’re Vladymir Gorokhov, right?” Sergio turns to see the speaker. It’s the agent he’s been following. Sergio nods, his hands instantly freezing cold. Has he burnt his cover so foolishly? Did something seem suspicious to Intelligence? Did he miss something? Did the agent see him follow him around? Before he can say anything back, the agent takes a few steps closer and stops right in front of Sergio’s face, a few inches taller. Should they fight here and now, Sergio doubts he can get out of it unharmed. “I need a nurse on a standby for the press conference,” the agent states, and Sergio exhales in relief.

“His shift is over,” they hear a doctor comment, and Sergio rushes to protest: he doesn’t mind working overtime if it’s in any way needed. Doctor nods and leaves.

As the agent quickly moves on to his next task at hand, Sergio stands confused. His eyes follow the doctor who’s made her way to the other side of a corridor by now. Rushing, he catches up with her.

“I apologize but… Why did he choose me?”

He gets a smirk as a response, and then some laughter.

Raising his eyebrows, he acts embarrassed, “Did I make a mistake in my sentence?”

“No. No, sorry. I thought you would realize… First of all, you’re here on a visa, no citizenship. They know you’ll do exactly what you’re told. Or they kick you back to your home country.”

“Uh,” he mutters, tilting his head. “It does make sense when you put it that way… Will they ask me to do something illegal?”

“Rather look the other way.”

“And what’s the second?”

“Sorry?”

“You said me being afraid to get kicked out of Spain was the first… what is the second then?”

“Right now you are the only nurse in this hospital who is impartial to the patient. Which is, again, because you’ve just come to Spain. You weren’t here when we almost overthrew our government for _killing_ _her_.”

Sergio nods. He remembers it all too well, the war he declared on the Spanish government, the chaos it caused. Back at the time it seemed like nothing mattered to him anymore. Innocent lives, politics, money. It wasn’t important, because he was suddenly utterly alone in this world. His father gone, Andrés gone and then Raquel gone, too.

He hoped they’d lied at first. It wouldn’t be new or surprising for police to lie. He did all he could to force them to admit it; to no avail. Raquel Murillo had been shot dead resisting her arrest, they kept saying. He then released the audio of her execution… _Execution, murder_. And public went crazy. In a matter of a day Raquel Murillo, a controversial inspector who’d been hated for years, turned into a symbol of resistance.

It was _it_ , Sergio remembers thinking. It was it, the moment of truth when authorities would have no choice but to admit they had misled everyone. Perhaps even gloat and call the Professor a liar, because, _look, here she is, the Raquel Murillo he claims we have killed, here she is, alive and well._

Only it didn’t go like Sergio had hoped.

Instead, police arrested the officer who had shot Raquel, and before the heist was over, he was found guilty of murder.

Suarez, was that his name? Yes, _Suarez, lower your weapon, I’m not a threat._

And then there was a funeral Sergio watched on a screen. He didn’t dare to attend, and they buried a closed coffin, because Raquel had been shot in her face.

By that time the heist was a complete mess, and Sergio was ready to sink with his ship, except… Except Raquel would never allow him to. She’d trusted him to take care of her family and he couldn’t let her down. He had to pull the gang out of the bank of Spain. He had to stay alive.

As months went by, Sergio’s search got him nowhere. Deep down he knew she was dead, he just refused to believe it. Paula’s mother was never coming back. Marivi’s daughter was never coming back. His Raquel was never coming back.

Sergio sighs.

If Raquel is here, where is that officer that supposedly shot her, he wonders briefly. Is Suarez really in prison for a fake murder? (Though, looking at Raquel, Sergio would strongly disagree that the murder was _fake_ ). Is he somewhere on a beach with a new passport, printed in the Royal Mint?

Is he rotting on a bottom of a sea?

 _The Professor_ would deem that too harsh of a punishment: Suarez didn’t really _hurt_ _her._ If anything, Raquel’s ‘death’ sounded painless and clean. She wasn’t slapped, or punched, or shot in a knee… No one tried to harm her to force her lover to surrender… _The Professor_ appreciates the precision of Raquel’s ‘execution’.

But _Sergio_ … Sergio remembers the blood pounding in his head as he ran through the woods. He remembers Raquel crying in his ear “ _I’m not a threat, lower your weapon_ ”… He remembers the yelling, the fear, the taste of vomit in his own mouth after the second gunshot. He remembers the siren of an ambulance that took Marivi with a stroke. He remembers Paula’s confused face and her deafening high pitch screams.

 _Sergio_ thinks that rotting somewhere is the least Suarez deserves for what has happened. If only the son of a bitch didn’t shoot. If only he waited long enough for Sergio to surrender…

Deep in his thoughts Sergio doesn’t even notice how colonel Tamayo enters the room.

“Sedate her. I don’t want any surprises,” the man drops dismissively while typing something on his phone. Sergio jumps in surprise, his eyes turning dark as he sees the man responsible for all of this just a few feet away. That son of a bitch. Sergio bites his cheek not to break colonel’s neck. He takes a deep breath, then quickly nods. Whatever is happening at that press conference, he would hate for Raquel to have an episode similar to last night. Not that he doesn’t want public to see what government did to the woman he loves… But he fears agents might hurt her if she so much as moves towards one of them. Sergio apologizes to her as he injects her with meds, and then apologizes once again when he pulls out the needle, and then again – when he presses cotton with alcohol to the tiny bleeding wound. She doesn’t react to any of it: doesn’t flinch, doesn’t jerk her arm… It’s like she doesn’t feel it. 

His hand softly on her back and another – supporting her elbow, Sergio walks Raquel down the corridor to where the press conference is set. She takes one step after another, a bit unsteady, but completely on her own, straight, left and right with his gentle guidance, her eyes always looking in front of her, blinking rapidly. They enter a smaller room where there are already people whom Sergio recognizes not to be hospital staff. He sits Raquel onto a chair in the far corner to give her as much peace as possible, but the moment he does so, a man and a woman in their mid-twenties approach. 

“That’s not going to be necessary,” the colonel stops the make-up crew as they are about to start putting tone on Raquel’s face. They glance at him rather surprised: Raquel looks like she’s just been through a war, with her capillaries still visible through thin skin, wrinkles and scars and bags under her eyes… Sergio has to stop himself right there. He needs to stay calm.

“Leave her as she is, just prep _me_ ,” Tamayo continues, then turns to Sergio and hands him a plastic bag. “Here is a change of clothes for your patient.”

Sergio takes it somewhat reluctantly. Confused. He looks inside the bag – and there really are clothes there. He takes out a jacket and a pair of pants, both still have shop’s tags on them. Frowning, he puts those aside and digs up a blouse and flat shoes. No underwear. As he changes her clothes, Raquel feels like a doll in his hands. Sergio forces himself not to look at her body. He is too afraid of what he will see there. Whitened scarred skin around her wrists that he noticed earlier is enough to make his stomach turn. He can’t _not_ see anything, unfortunately, and when he is done, and Raquel is dressed very similar to how he first met her, he wills himself to _unsee_ it all. He swallows hard, feeling nauseous.

“I am sorry to disturb you, señor, and it’s none of my business,” Sergio begins quietly. He desperately wants to know what CNI’s plan is… this sudden press conference cannot be anything good, and he _needs to know_ what they have in mind, a business suit for Raquel only confusing him even more. “But wouldn’t she look better on cameras if marks on her face were covered?” he probes, and immediately takes a step back as the colonel turns around to eye him angrily.

“You’re right, nurse, that is none of your business. Just do your job, would you?”

Sergio nods, expressing fear, then shakes his head, mumbling apologies, and then walks to stand behind Raquel, his hand weightlessly on her shoulder, his body shielding her back. He’d do anything to be able to hug her right now. He bends over to her, whispering comforting words to her ear. She suddenly starts coughing, whistling sound coming from her mouth with every gasp, and Sergio rushes to grab a plastic cup of water. On autopilot he extends it to Raquel, but she doesn’t move, once again reminding him she doesn’t see him.

One of the agents turns to see what’s wrong.

“She will be fine in a minute, just choked on water,” he lies. To his relief, Raquel stops coughing. With a guilty look he takes her hand and presses the cup to her palm. Her fingers tremble at the contact, and Sergio carefully supports the cup from the bottom while she takes a sip. “This will all be over soon, Raquel. I’m right here beside you.” He can’t tell if she understands him or even hears what he’s said.

His fingers touch hers as he takes back the cup. They’re cold, and Sergio cannot look away from how unnaturally they are bent. Understanding pricks him like a small knife between ribs: they were broken. Her fingers were broken, and then they healed in a wrong way. He hates it. He hates all of it, and _it_ wasn’t even the worst part, he admits. Fingers might be the easiest to fix once she is out of here and in the caring hands of an army of the best doctors he’s going to hire. There’s not a doctor or equipment in the world he cannot afford for _her_.

Sergio watches more CNI agents arrive and can’t stop wondering what plan this is all about.

What can they possibly say to the public to make _this_ any less messy?

The answer comes to Sergio’s head when it’s a moment too late to act, and with horror he realizes what authorities have prepared. Raquel is already sitting on the podium, her unseeing look straight into the countless cameras, her face blank, her breathing steady. The camera flashes make all the scars on Raquel’s skin more visible.

“On behalf of the Spanish government I would like to thank Inspector Murillo for her services,” colonel Tamayo begins, and Sergio can’t help but grit his teeth. “As you can see for yourselves,” he nods towards Raquel who isn’t moving an inch, “Police work is dangerous. Criminal world can be brutal and unforgiving.”

If Sergio didn’t know better, he would believe this guy’s sincerity, as the colonel’s voice tenses just enough to show how hard it is for him to suppress his devastation and anger. Sergio looks around the audience, all the journalists seem confused.

“After the heist at the Royal Mint where criminals managed to steal over a billion euros, Inspector Murillo went undercover to gain trust of the most condescending gang Spain has ever seen. Yes, yes,” colonel raises his hand when there’s a wave of angry chatter rising in the room. “I know many of you supported what their leader stood for. Equality. But _this_!” he exhales the last word and curves his lips in disgust. “ _This_ is what they really _are_. They did _this_ to her when they realized she was a mole,“ he pauses, letting the audience swallow it. ”When we learnt the criminals were onto the Inspector, she was extracted. We went as far as faking her death to ensure the gang wouldn’t go after her or her family. But make no mistake, they _are_ resourceful. Inspector Murillo was soon kidnapped from our custody, and for years, we believed they’d killed her for betraying their crooked ideas… But _they_ had her this entire time.”

That lying bastard.

Sergio’s heart skips several beats. His hands start shaking.

“Spanish government will do everything in its power to ensure that Inspector Murillo gets all the medical care possible, and once again, we thank her for her service. This is inhumane, and we urge anyone who has any information that may lead to Sergio Marquina a.k.a. El Professor and his crew to contact us,” colonel finishes, raising his voice. Reporters shout, someone in the back trips over a cable, there’s pushing, and everyone wants to ask questions, and this is when Sergio notices a tear running down Raquel’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still here, THANK YOU! Even if you feel like killing me right now (but please don't). Any thoughts on the story or characters are going to make me extremely happy. So I thank you in advance.
> 
> And in case you need something fluffy and positive, here's a Serquel wedding fanvideo www.youtube.com/watch?v=xI6vsL2FkqM


	3. Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the emotional feedback, it keeps me going (and going isn't easy, trust me). Big virtual hug to Natz for proofreading this chapter.  
> 

If there’s any good in this mess, it’s that they’ve dropped all charges against Raquel. All at once. Her record clean, her reputation ‘restored’ in the eyes of law, Sergio purses his lips bitterly. Turning her into the system’s _puppet hero_ is _clever_ , he’ll give them _that_. He has yet to find out how many people bought this spectacle, but he fears that a lot.

When the press conference is over, Sergio feels like screaming.

Lies.

So many lies, and Tamayo doesn’t even blink. He sees the colonel nod to him, barely noticeable, signaling it’s time to come get Raquel. Sergio nods back and quickly walks across the podium. He bends to put his hand under Raquel’s elbow, pulling her softly to get up. She stands on her feet and then sways a little. Sergio _instinctively_ presses his palm between her shoulder blades to steady her, and that’s when Raquel suddenly jerks. Some incomprehensive sound comes from her throat as she throws her hands behind her back, pressing them to her waistline, stoops and freezes. Taken aback by the gesture, Sergio needs a moment to regroup.

He watches her carefully, glances around: nobody seem to have noticed. He waits a few moments to see if Raquel’s reaction escalates, but nothing changes. Barely touching her, Sergio wraps his hand around Raquel’s shoulder, ready to catch her if she missteps on the way down from the podium. He needs to take her away from prying eyes before thinking what has just happened. He can feel her body tremble, but there is nothing he can do at the moment. Journalists and agents and god-knows-who-else are still watching them as they leave.

“I’m sorry this had to happen, Raquel,” he whispers to her as they turn into the corridor. This press conference couldn’t have been pleasant, even if Raquel is pumped with anti anxiety meds. The moment those words leave Sergio’s lips, her head jerks even lower, pulling her shoulders forward. Her arms still behind her back _as if she’s wearing invisible cuffs_ , Raquel moos under her breath as her knees give way. He holds her up, puzzled, his leg touches hers, and that’s when he realizes her pants are wet. Sergio grimaces, looking down. A dark stain is still spreading on the grey fabric. This has _just happened_. Hell. What did he do wrong?

Sergio glances around, confused. He doesn’t want to draw unneeded attention or show that something is off, so they keep moving. He throws a look at a wheelchair, regretting there’s no point in trying to put her in it. Things would be easier then, but it didn’t exactly work out when he first tried, and he doubts it’ll work out _now_.

 _She’ll sit_ , he knows. She’ll sit until it starts _moving_ , and then she’ll panic.

He thinks back to what has just happened. _A touch between her shoulder blades and an apology_. That’s all it took for Raquel to almost snap (she’d probably go harder if she wasn’t sedated). Sergio shivers.

It slowly comes together in his mind and then hurts his eyes with a burning sensation.

It’s not so much the apology as it is the _wording_. Without knowing it, he must’ve recreated a sequence all too familiar to Raquel. What _did_ happen to her every time someone pulled her hands behind and said _those exact words_?

Mouth open wide in realization, Sergio almost trips over his own foot as he walks. He wants to soothe her, to comfort, but he suddenly fears saying wrong things again.

“ _Estoy contigo, Raquel_. It’s Sergio. _I'm with you_ , nothing is happening to you, _nothing_.”

It takes Raquel several long minutes to stop shaking and get back to her blank state, her hands slowly – reluctantly – coming to rest in front.

“He is a liar, Raquel, I know he lied,” Sergio whispers as they walk into their wing of the hospital. He wants her to know.

Another nurse picks her up from him – _hello Raquel, how are you doing, honey –_ giving him a questioning look when she notices wet pants. She takes his embarrassed grimace as a response and nods.

 _Everybody_ he can hear _is_ talking about this press conference.

He half-smiles to the older woman and then turns to leave. His shift has ended several hours ago, and a car is already waiting for him two blocks from the hospital. Sergio stops for a moment to look back: one nurse is carrying clean clothes for Raquel while the other wipes Raquel’s face with a tissue and starts to undress her. She’s in good hands. He needs to go.

As soon as Sergio is inside the car, he sets his phone to see the footage from two cameras inside the hospital. He doesn’t _watch_ , he just glances every now and then, making sure nothing has changed dramatically in the way hospital staff treats their special patient.

He secretly wishes Philippines were in _a different_ hemisphere, _a different_ time zone. He wishes it was night there and Paula was asleep right now, but he isn’t that lucky. Spanish noon means dinner time in Palawan. She’s sure watched the damn press conference, and he mentally prepares to make the phone call as the car is taking him to the safe house.

It’s helpful that she’s spent these past years living with him. That spares Sergio the promises that colonel’s announcement was false and he, Sergio, never hurt Paula’s mother. _That_ helps to skip their conversation with a crying teenager to the part where she hates him anyways (for what – he still has to figure out, but he cannot really blame Paula for being emotional). If he’s honest, he can’t blame her for hating him either.

Sometimes Sergio wonders if it would have been better for both Paula and her grandmother to just live normal lives. He could have set up accounts and new identities for them away from his constant need to stay under the radar. But then he knows that would only make things easy for _him_.

And if he’s being honest, that, too, is a lie.

They are _the only resemblance_ to a family he has. _His only family_.

“I need you to stay _home_ , Paula,” he pushes as calmly as possible. “It is a matter of days, I’ll bring your mother.”

He means it. Right now he doesn’t care about vengeance or even justice. He just wants to get Raquel out of Spain, back to the Philippines where he can have her surrounded by doctors and the people she loves. He wants her to heal. He admits that once that happens, he might – and probably will – want to kill everyone who’s done this to her. Sergio wonders which part of him is making this decision right now: him or the Professor.

“How’s grandma handling this?” he asks drily.

“In her usual blissful ignorance,” Paula snaps back at him. She’s not a bad person. She’s just hurting. “Mom looked sad,” she adds, thoughtfully.

“Paula, you mother’s been through a lot…”

“I know. I watched the press conference, remember? Pretty sure I even saw _you_. In a nurse uniform.”

Sergio grunts. He couldn’t have been so obvious. It’s in Paula’s DNA, ability to _see_ things. Her parents have brilliant minds, even if one of them is a self-absorbed controlling bastard.

He scrolls down news on his tablet while they talk, and – as if following his own train of thought – he sees a brief interview of Raquel’s ex-husband. Less than a minute long, that can’t be too damaging. Time stamp shows it’s been taken shortly after the press conference, so Sergio says his goodbye to Paula, turns off the burner he used for the call.

Alberto Vicuna is surprisingly short in his statements. Journalist keeps following him as he walks from what appears to be a police station to his car, asking one question after another. But all the response is “No comments”. Sergio raises his eyebrow, somewhat disappointed. At the very end of the clip, though, Alberto stops and faces the camera. “I hope they can finally find my kidnapped daughter. Wherever you are, Paula, please know, I love you very much.”

Not too bad. Sergio expected worse.

And just a few hours later it indeed gets _worse_.

Arranging equipment purchases, Sergio keeps an eye on hospital cameras and checks the news feed. Big outlets stick to the narrative Sergio finds satisfying.

Some are questioning whether it’s acceptable for police officers to work deep undercover while there are more suitable agents of Intelligence who have better training.

Many find it hard to believe that the Spanish government had no part in Inspector’s misfortune. Especially after _that nasty story about a young gang member who was secretly tortured by a pregnant woman for months._

A few wonder how it is possible that the Inspector is still alive, regardless of who had her. They find it strange for her to reappear after so many years. Their theories go wild, making Sergio roll his eyes, but they have a point: _why_ release her now?

As the evening comes, a local Madrid talk show catches Sergio’s eye.

 _Arturo Roman, a former general director of the Royal Mint of Spain_ , the caption on the screen says.

Sergio smells trouble even before he turns on volume and hears what the man has to say.

He remembers Arturo being a pain in the ass not once, but twice. It takes a fair portion of luck and idiocy to be a hostage in _one_ robbery, get shot by the police, and then run inside a facility that is being robbed _years later_. 

“… and then I saw her, my secretary. _Former secretary._ Monica Gaztambide, she was a hostage in the Royal Mint. And some thought she fell in love with one of the robbers and ran off with the billion euros they stole, but…”

But?

Sergio leans closer to the screen without even noticing it. Arturo goes on telling about his heroic adventure during the robbery at a Bank of Spain. That idiot ran inside when the door was open to release some of the hostages.

“She looked horrible, probably beaten or worse,” Arturo grimaces and gestures wildly with his hands. “It was clear they were keeping her there against her will. She had a fake gun. They must’ve kidnapped her, locked her up somewhere, you know, and then dragged her with them,” he crosses his legs and slowly sips water from a glass, letting the audience swallow his words. “Monica was so relieved to see me there, poor girl, I did everything I could to help her, but they still grabbed her on the way out… I barely made it out alive!”

The interviewer doesn’t seem too shocked, and Sergio can see how Arturo is shining in the spotlight of attention. He, Sergio, on the other hand, feels like his eyes are about to fall out with shock. This… This he didn’t see coming.

The show continues, and Arturo goes on sharing his thoughts on the situation around Raquel, and that’s when Sergio regrets the guy survived the heists.

“I had a pleasure to interact with Inspector Murillo during the robbery of the Royal Mint. As you know, I was the mastermind behind the hostage escape. Inspector and I had many chats, let me assure you, she would never turn on the law like this. Not for a moment I believed this nonsense about her switching sides. Not Raquel Murillo.”

Sergio hits the air with a fist.

There are calls to the studio, some angry, some confused. Infuriated, Sergio calls too, but they keep putting him on hold, saying line is busy, and the waiting time just _never_ goes below six minutes, no matter how long he waits. He tries calling from a different phone – same result.

He sees a storm stirring up on social media.

“I think it really sucks that our police claims it can protect us, but it cannot even protect one of their own,” a yet another caller states. By now Sergio is positive that all of those lucky ones who get through are not random. He’s tried six different phones, different companies and even a French sim-card; to no avail.

When the talk show is over, news feed does not look pleasant at all.

Raquel being an undercover agent is trending – so far, only in Spain, but it _will_ grow bigger in no time.

#RaquellMurilloNotLisbon

Sergio fixes his glasses nervously.

Going head to head with the government in a media war isn’t something Sergio fears, but he isn’t prepared for it right now. All he can think about is Raquel. This won’t be a fair fight. He is too busy preparing her extraction to worry about _this_.

He might need help, after all, Sergio admits half-heartedly. This mess is spiraling out of control.

His suspicions are confirmed when he comes back to work next day. Hospital staff still talks about the press conference. He notes with relief that people are mostly just confused, but then confusion is the first step in the direction he absolutely cannot let them move.

“I don’t know what to think of it,” Gabriela shrugs, casually sipping her evening can of energy drink, when Sergio raises the topic. He claims he’s been reading old articles out of curiosity, and Gabriela doesn’t question it. “If that’s a lie, how comes Professor hasn’t said anything?”

“Perhaps he doesn’t know?” Sergio suggests, and Gabriela grins with visible annoyance. Sergio rushes to continue before she can say anything. “Or perhaps he is already working on a plan to get her out?”

“Uh…” the girl is lost in her thoughts for a moment, and then there’s noise on the floor and she takes off abruptly.

Sergio sits there for a moment before heading to the hall too. Gabriela is right. The longer Professor is silent, the more people are likely to question whether the government is actually lying. Except, he cannot make an appearance, his hair color is permanent and will take months to grow. As will his beard.

He could let people think what they want. After all, it isn’t about _them_. It is about _her_. But he knows he _might need_ _them_ too.

Sergio takes a pen and a piece of paper, writes a short message, then heads towards Raquel. Seeing her again hurts no less than the first time. Except now there’s also fear squeezing Sergio’s throat.

He’s hurt her. The last time he was with her, he’s hurt her. He doesn’t know how to avoid it in the future.

Sergio watches her carefully as he approaches, but then detours to where one of his hidden cameras is, and freezes in front of it with his written message turned towards it. He stands like that for a few seconds, just enough for his associates to realize he needs them to pay closer attention. Then he moves away, quietly shoving the note inside his pants. He’ll discard it later.

The way he imagines it, his tech guy sitting in front of the screens in the safe house will notice Sergio’s unusual behavior. He will zoom in and rewind to read the note. And if all goes well, he will shortly follow Sergio’s written instructions and contact their backup IT team. Of course, there is a chance that just as Sergio stood with a note, his guy went to a bathroom or simply sneezed or spilled his Pepsi and went to pick up some wipes. In that case Sergio will repeat the whole thing in a couple hours. Unless, of course, by then everything is done.

Hands in his pockets, he approaches Raquel, fearfully. Memories of their last encounter still fresh, Sergio stops three feet away from her. She isn’t moving, her eyes aimed at the floor.

“Hello, Raquel,” he smiles awkwardly. “Can I join you?”

He comes a step closer and pulls a chair to sit on.

“I talked to Paula today. She is so excited. We will go home soon, Raquel. To Paula, to your daughter.”

As Sergio speaks, his smile slowly fades away. Raquel stays motionless. Sergio notes to himself that Raquel’s hair is not a mess anymore; one of the nurses must have brushed and braided it.

Watching her carefully, he pulls his chair closer and sits right in front of her, then gets up and sits on the floor, looking straight into her unseeing eyes.

“I keep doing all the wrong things, Raquel,” he begins. “I keep hurting you, I’m so sorry.”

He reaches out and softly brushes her chin with his fingertips. As it doesn’t seem to scare her, his touch goes up to her lower lip. It feels dry under his skin, and Sergio holds his breath not to look at the scar coming out of the corner of her mouth. Taking a deep breath, Sergio closes his eyes.

“I need you to be strong just a little more, Raquel. Please. I need you to trust me. We…”

“Vladymir, I could really use a hand here,” Gabriela’s voice comes from the other side of the hall, and Sergio realizes with horror that she’s probably been struggling for quite some time before calling him… Which means she’s probably noticed what he was doing.

“Yes, of course.”

He rushes to her side.

“Is everything alright there?” Gabriela nods towards Raquel. “You seemed pretty lost,” she half-smiles, frowning.

“Uh, yes. Yes, no, everything is fine. I was just trying to follow up on something from my last shift.”

She doesn’t seem too interested, so they proceed in silence for some time.

“So what did you do in Russia?” Gabriela asks suddenly, and Sergio stops what he’s doing. He’s assumed this line of questions was gone with the sunrise of his first shift. “Were you a nurse too?”

“Yes, why?”

“You don’t seem to be experienced in actual _nursing_. More like _treating patients_?”

Damn it. She noticed. Sergio thought he was careful, but apparently not careful enough.

“Well, yes,” he mumbles, fixing his glasses. “I used to be a doctor in Russia.”

“So why not work as a doctor here? Pays more, and the work isn’t this shitty,” she nods at the old man on a stretcher whose feet she just wiped clean with a tissue.

“I don’t mind.”

She gives him a questioning look. She doesn’t believe him.

“I’m too old to learn new tricks, I guess. And to be a doctor here in Spain, I would need to pass all the exams to confirm my degree. Learning the language was already hard enough,” he chuckles. “What about you?”

Seeing his question took her by surprise, he uses a moment to glance at Raquel while the girl is considering her answer.

“If you hate it, why do you do it?” Sergio adds.

“Cos I need money?” she grimaces slowly, rolling her eyes. “And I don’t hate it. I like helping people, but sometimes it’s too much.”

“Makes sense. But trust me, being a doctor isn’t much easier… Come to think of it, it isn’t easier at all. You know what we say in Russia? Each doctor has their own cemetery.”

“Of the patients they couldn’t save?”

“Sometimes the patient is beyond saving. But sometimes it’s just a mistake that kills them, and a doctor has to live with it.”

Gabriela inhales and holds her breath for a moment. It seems his words got to her, and Sergio feels relieved she won’t push any further.

“I think it’s time to take our Inspector to the bathroom,” the girl checks her watch and nods at Raquel. “Do you want me to..?”

“No, it’s fine. I got this.”

Sergio’s done it before. Nothing new happens when he slowly walks Raquel to the restroom, mechanically pulls her pants down, sits her on the toilet, waits, till there is a familiar sound of running water, helps her up to her feet, wipes her with a tissue and then pulls her pants back up. He keeps his eyes on her face until he is too embarrassed and moves his gaze onto a wall.

When he takes Raquel back to her bed, Sergio checks his phone. The news feed narrative, as bad as it was getting, looks much better now. With hundreds of blog posts and tweets and comments coming from his talented (and rather cheaply priced) team, public will have options to choose from. He needs them to choose wisely and compassionately.

He checks the time. Dinner.

Sergio holds a plastic food container on his lap as he moves the spoon to Raquel’s mouth. She takes it in without changing her position, and when she visibly swallows, he gives her more. The process is slow and, as Sergio remembers just a moment later, quite messy.

A few drops of cream soup spill onto Raquel’s chin and slide down her shirt. He quietly curses himself for not using the bib he’s supposed to. No turning back now, he tells himself, and proceeds until the food container in his hand is empty. He then wipes Raquel’s lips and chin, and then heads off to get a clean set of clothes.

This isn’t _love_ , what he feels to Raquel, Sergio admits silently, letting her hair tickle his fingers as he takes her stained shirt off. Love makes you feel like you can fly… And he only feels like he is falling, endlessly, into an abyss, breathless. This isn’t love, this is an _obsession_. It’s been years since the last time he was able to do anything… _anything_ without thinking of Raquel.

Even when he knew she was dead, his mind would put her in an empty chair on the other side of the dining table. She’d stand next to him, advising what present to buy for Marivi’s birthday, what words to say and reasons to give. She was with him in bed, weightlessly – invisibly – lying on that extra pillow he always had next to his. She laughed softly in his ears when Sergio fell from the paddle board moments after telling Paula to watch how it should be done. She scolded him he hadn’t noticed his kidney had been failing and was rushed into the ER.

Even last night, as he lay in his bed, watching her sleeping silhouette on the hospital screens with a corner of his eye, Raquel was curled up next to his chest on a narrow mattress of his safe house. Her hair was whiter, and she wasn’t smiling, but she was there next to him.

He buttons up a clean shirt on Raquel’s chest, ignoring the nagging urge to caress a tiny white scar circling around her right nipple. No way. He finishes the buttons and pulls himself away from her. It doesn’t matter how he calls what he feels. His life isn’t _his_ anymore, Sergio admits with a deep breath. This might not be healthy, but there’s nothing he can do.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on her forehead. There is no response, but he could swear he sees Raquel close her eyes a few moments longer than just a blink.

“What have you done to me, Raquel,” he mumbles, half to her, half to himself. “I love you. I love you so much it _hurts_.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bravest readers who made it all the way here, THANK YOU so much! You deserve a drink. Please, share any thoughts you have about the story, Serquel (or the weather LOL). It makes me so happy to read your feed back.
> 
> P.S. And before you leave, here's a reminder how strong Raquel is.  
> "Slept like a slave, woke up a rebel" www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtMx2zBERXk


	4. Hopes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread by Natz.  
> You might need a drink for this one.

It is midnight when the first bomb goes off on the outskirts of Madrid. A small portion of C4 with a remote detonator hidden inside a car. Sergio knows, because he’s the one who chose the car and the location.

He checks the time on his watch. It’s two minutes past twelve, and he quietly walks down an empty hospital hall into the kitchen. All his patients are asleep, and all he is supposed to do now is observe…

The incident is not on the news yet, but it soon will be.

Later on, Sergio will learn that the actual explosion didn’t take place until 12:07 – his men had to wait for a group of drunken teenagers to get away from that street, so nobody would get hurt. It doesn’t change a thing, really, but to Sergio it is important. He knows his hired muscle obeys his rules.

The next two bombs make more noise than the first one. They are closer to the centre, both hidden in the garbage bins along the streets. Both detonate at 12:34 a.m., and by then Sergio is half way done placing equipment inside hospital toilets.

By three in the morning news pick up on the strange victimless crimes that are occurring all over Madrid, seven locations at that time.

By four o’clock crimes stop being victimless – several of the men Sergio hired pretend to get stuck in one of the apartment buildings that starts burning after a yet another device is activated. They are rescued in time. Same happens at a supermarket not too far from the hospital.

By five, when the hospital corridors start filling up with a low concentrated smoke – not really dangerous in case someone inhales it or gets stuck, but enough to be visible and smelled – there is no argument: hospital _is_ the next target.

It is the quietest time of the night. Most nurses have their eyes half closed while sitting in random places, and the very few doctors have nothing urgent but drunken tourists who got into a fight and broke each other’s noses.

Panic breaks out within minutes.

Evacuation is announced.

When the most personnel and patients are safely out, Sergio activates the last bomb. It goes off in Raquel’s wing, and when it does, he makes sure to stand right by her. The two policemen who are supposed to escort him and Raquel out, split. One runs through the dimly lit corridor to see if there are any injured by the blast. The lights go dark. Sergio quickly moves behind the back of the remaining officer, and squeezes his neck till the guy passes out. _You’ll be fine_ , Sergio whispers. It takes several minutes for the autonomous generator to kick in.

Quickly pulling two respirators out of his oversized shirt, Sergio presses one to his face. Then grabs a towel from the nearest tray, and wraps it on top, covering the respirator completely. Should anyone see him, he’s just a nurse, trying to survive a fire with what he has at hand. As soon as he’s done, he places the second respirator on Raquel.

This is far from perfect. He’s relieved she hasn’t woken up to the noise of the evacuation, mostly due to the bigger dosage of the sedative he injected her before putting her to sleep. One thing he cannot afford is for her to breathe in the smoke on top of that.

He grabs the pillow from under her head and pulls off its case, wrapping the fabric around Raquel’s face to cover the respirator. Then, bending to reach under Raquel’s bed, he takes out a small paper bag and throws its contents onto his palm. It’s ash. Next moment it’s thrown all over his and Raquel’s face, hair and clothes.

By the time he carries Raquel out of the building, evacuation is complete except for the police officer he knocked out. Sergio screams, announcing there is a man injured by the explosion inside, and then uses the panic around as a smoke screen.

Six minutes after he makes it out, there is a police helicopter landing next to the hospital building. With several fire tracks and police vehicles surrounding the area and news reporters gathering around, there is enough crowd for the last phase of Sergio’s escape plan to work. He runs towards the helicopter, and a minute later it takes off.

As the sun starts coming above the horizon, there is a mechanical failure in what is later discovered to be a stolen helicopter painted to look like it belonged to police department. It crashes about fifty kilometers outside Madrid, its wreckage landing on an empty field. As the morning becomes brighter, it also turns out an Ambulance is stolen along with two other civilian cars from the hospital parking lot. They are all found in different places in the south-east part of the city.

By the breakfast time Sergio’s companion puts senseless Raquel onto a sofa in the living room of an apartment Sergio prepared. Sergio carefully removes the respirator from her face along with the pillow case and tosses them onto the floor.

With all the mess they have created it will take authorities at least a day to figure out what has happened. Perhaps, longer – if Sergio is lucky. And then police will go crazy, trying to catch him and Raquel. They’ll check under every stone in Europe, assuming he’d already had enough time to leave Spain; every CCTV of every international port in the world, perhaps. They know they cannot afford to look like fools again. The next few days it will be madness, he knows.

If Raquel were in a better condition, they’d go through Morocco right away. Head down to Western Sahara, hire a guide to cross the minefield by the time Spanish authorities realize the escapees didn’t die in the helicopter crash; take a train in Mauritania and disappear in the desert sands, where any document is legitimate as long as it’s accompanied by a few paper bills of an international recognition. Unfortunately, Raquel is in no shape for travel. Not the kind of travel it would take to get far enough from Spain to be safe, anyways.

So they’ll stay put. Away from all the abandoned and rusty buildings, away from secluded farms and god forgotten villages, cheap motels and caravan camps where _police_ will search. They’ll stay here, in this luxury apartment in the very heart of Madrid, because no one will expect it. He watches Raquel for a moment more, and then walks to the window, instinctively fixing the curtains even though they are fully blocking the view as it is.

The renovations he’s done in this apartment over the past few days – as expensive and urgent as they were – should make it enough of a fortress. A sound-proof one, for that matter, because deep down Sergio knows Raquel won’t be alright any time soon.

Peculiarity of the situation amuses _Professor’s_ mind. Raquel isn’t a fugitive. She isn’t even officially a person of interest anymore, and that means police cannot really start hunting her down. That is, until they figure out he is the one who took her. He wonders how long that’s going to take. Given the scale of the chaos he and his people created overnight, Raquel’s disappearance shouldn’t be top priority. Not when his associates made sure two real criminals who were being treated at the hospital, escaped as well (they are of course now hidden and will be returned to the police later… Sergio has no desire to really free murderers and rapists).

Sergio cleans Raquel first, and then cleans himself. His nurse uniform and Raquel’s hospital clothes are thrown into the trash: they stink of smoke. He’s picked some pajamas for her in a store the day before, but now that he looks at them he suddenly finds himself… laughing? He can’t even explain what he feels. A mix of sorrow and amusement.

 _Librarian's pajamas,_ she used to mock him.

And that is somehow exactly what he’s picked for her: comfortable cotton and flannel pants with long sleeved shirts. The irony. She’d burst out laughing into his face if she could see these, he chuckles, going through the stuff he’s bought for her.

The underwear he’s got is better. Not perfectly what she’d buy for herself, Sergio admits – mostly because such stores are too intimidating, _embarrassing_ for him.

When Raquel is finally dressed in clean clothes, Sergio still has a few hours before sedatives wear off and she wakes up. He chooses to rest. When he opens his eyes again, he jumps. It’s almost time. He pushes himself up from the couch next to the bed Raquel is sleeping in, puts on a suit quickly. In a matter of minutes there is a knock on the door of the apartment. Sergio opens.

He sees one of his men walk a blindfolded man with a suitcase through the door. There isn’t any aggression or roughness in the way he does that, but Sergio still shivers under his breath.

“I apologize for this,” Sergio mumbles in German, taking off the blindfold as soon as the door closes and they are left alone.

“I knew what I was signing up for, mister Marquina,” the man responds drily and puts his bag on top of the suitcase.

“How… How was your flight, doctor?”

“Uneventful.”

“I see, I see…” for a moment Sergio is lost in his thoughts. “Uh, here, please,” he extends an envelope with cash. “This is for your travelling expenses. The rest is being transferred in cryptocurrecy as we speak.”

“I'm not here because of the money, mister Marquina.”

“I know, I know. Sorry,” he holds the envelope but doctor never takes it. He isn’t one of the low paid immigrant professionals working under the table. He is a full scale world renowned specialist, and Sergio would be excited to have him on his side if it were under different circumstances. Truth be told, up until he saw the guy walk through that door with a blindfold on his eyes, Sergio wasn’t a hundred percent sure he was coming.

“It was a short notice,” doctor states. “A three day vacation was all I could manage. It should be enough for assessment, but I will need your people to make it look like I _am_ having that vacation. I support your cause, but I don’t want any trouble with authorities. ”

With that, he extends his credit card, camera and phone to Sergio. Sergio nods. He gives them to his man behind the door as soon as the doctor walks deeper into the apartment.

Sergio watches the doctor approach Raquel’s bed, her head still on a pillow, but she _is_ waking up. There is no disgust or compassion on doctor’s face. _He’s seen worse._ It seems strange to Sergio, because he himself cannot look at Raquel without wincing. He walks into the room, stands there at a loss, looking around. He doesn’t know what to do now that there is someone else to help Raquel.

A few hours pass before doctor follows Sergio into the kitchen, asking for all the data from Raquel’s hospital tests. He takes the memory card and walks back into the bedroom, setting his laptop along with other equipment on the table. Sergio is too tired and anxious to tell what it is, but it can’t be something damming, because the doctor had to pack for vacation, not work.

“A lot of healed injuries,” doctor states quietly, looking through CT scans. “Some are _very_ old. Jaw fractures and fingers are recent. A couple of months at best.”

He shoots Sergio a wondering look.

“The way you conveyed it to me, I thought this was her first rodeo. But it wasn’t, was it?”

Sergio’s confused look serves as an instant response.

“It makes sense in her line of work,” doctor adds drily.

“She has a history of domestic abuse,” Sergio finally offers, seeing doctor go deeper and deeper into countless tests he’s downloaded from the hospital computer the night of their escape. “Not too violent, as far as I know.”

Doctor nods. He doesn’t look surprised, but the way he nods makes Sergio think this piece of information was new to him. Whether the doctor didn’t hear her full story during the Royal Mint robbery, or he didn’t believe _that_ part, remains unimportant.

The three days that doctor spends with Raquel, Sergio is barely there. He watches how the process goes, he sets the nutritious IVs (because no amount of food Raquel can possibly digest at this point will be enough for her to regain her weight), cleans and feeds Raquel, but otherwise tries to make his presence as unnoticeable as possible. Instead, he makes himself busy with other matters at hand. He would be useless near Raquel at the moment, but he can (and has to) manage other tasks.

The mess of their escape manages to kick Raquel’s undercover story off the news cycle almost completely. There are references to her escape, but the two maniacs who ‘escaped’ with her are much more of a threat to society, as are the mysterious explosions. 

Calming Paula gets harder after two days. She understands the situation, the circumstances, but that doesn’t make it any easier for her to _accept_ it all.

It is the third day, though, when things start getting really complicated. Sergio wakes up to his photos posted on every media outlet. Three photos, to be precise: the one from his hospital card with grey hair and wrinkles all over his face; the one from old days they must have dug up from archives, and a compilation of both – an attempt to estimate how he really looks right now without any deceiving make up.

 _Wanted_.

_Sergio Marquina a.k.a. El Professor._

He frowns. This took them less than he hoped. Damn.

Raquel’s photos are almost nowhere to be seen. There are announcements that she’s been abducted from the hospital, and _he_ is the main suspect, but just a couple images of her, all snapped from the footage of the Royal Mint heist. Sergio wonders why.

He surfs through the news to get a better understanding of how they’ve figured things out. Of course. _Gabriela_. She is the one who pointed her finger at a _strange foreign doctor_. Clever girl. He thinks back, and for a moment he can remember seeing her outside the hospital as he was heading to a getaway car. That changes nothing, because _that_ car is long gone, stuck at the customs in Algeria port, along with the tracker he found on Raquel.

Public opinion is on his side.

That’s good.

The bad comes towards the evening, as the doctor walks out of Raquel’s bedroom with unusually grim face. His flight isn’t until midnight, and Sergio finds it odd that the man has already packed his suitcase and pulls it towards the exit.

“I’ve done what I could, mister Marquina,” he announces, stopping in the middle of the living room. Sergio rises from the sofa and puts away his laptop.

“You still have several hours.”

“It won’t change anything.”

“Please.”

“You asked for my professional opinion, mister Marquina,” doctor states coldly. “And that is what it is. Chances of her coming back are next to nonexistent. If I were in your position, I would consider putting her in a suitable institution.”

Sergio’s breath is caught in his throat, and he feels his heart pounding in his chin.

“I’m sorry, but this is the reality. She’s gone, mister Marquina, and no amount of money you are going to pay me or anybody else can change that. Miss Murillo’s life will be much better in a facility designed for people like her.”

Sergio hears the world crumble around him, deafening noise ripping his ears apart.

It takes an hour to arrange doctor’s departure, and all that time Sergio swallows hard every few seconds, suppressing an urge to cry. This is not fair. This is catastrophic. This is…

As soon as he stands alone in front of the door and hears the footsteps of the yet-again-blindfolded doctor guided away, Sergio falls onto the floor, hitting it hard with his knees. He screams, tears running down his cheeks for the first time in what feels like forever, and he doesn’t even _want_ them to stop. His vision turns into a complete blur.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he can see again. He finds himself lying on the floor, same spot he stood to say goodbye to what he believes to be the best specialist in Europe. His face is still wet and it’s itchy with all the salt on his skin. Slowly, Sergio gets up, doctor’s words still echo in his head.

Can he really take good care of Raquel? Is it fair? How many lives has he ruined just because he fell in love and was too selfish to keep it at bay? His devastation slowly turning into anger, Sergio clenches his fists as he walks towards Raquel. She sits on the bed, her eyes pointed at the floor like nothing has happened.

He can’t see her like this. It hurts.

He _keeps watching_. He deserves it; he _must_ look at what he’s done.

Sergio walks her to the bathroom, sequence all familiar and almost automatic these days, and then walks her back. He spoon feeds her absentmindedly, not paying attention when mashed food ends up on his clothes and somehow – even his face. None of it seem to matter. He wipes her face and puts her to sleep. Raquel’s been off meds ever since she’s out of the hospital, and every night he wonders if this is when she’ll snap.

Taking a deep breath, he heads to the bathroom, takes off his stained clothes, shoving them into a washing machine with all the hate he has (gesture almost hurting his elbow). He’s panting. His underwear down on his ankles, he kicks it to a side, not even trying to aim. Sergio steps into a shower cabin, one hand turns on hot water, the other – slides down his belly.

_This is too much for him._

He locks his fingers into a ring and starts moving, his body reacting to the touch like a clock. Eyes on the running water, Sergio tightens his grip and quickens the pace, aiming for a quick release. Up and down. Harder. It almost hurts, except it doesn’t, and he stops his hand just at the end, caressing his flesh for a few moments before pulling it up. He stops half breath in, his fingers go down and up once again. It takes him less than three minutes to see the white liquid splash onto the wet floor, mixing up with soap and hot water. Sergio grunts, sound suppressed by his sealed lips. His knees weak, he leans onto the transparent shower cabin door with his forehead, his free hand rested on the tap.

For a few moments Sergio feels dizzy, almost nauseous. His heart is pounding in his ears, and the lower part of his body is pure cotton. He watches the most of the white go with the water, and then turns around to wash off the remains. His breathing slowly returns to normal as he stands under the shower, hot flow cascading onto his shoulders and head.

It takes long for his sperm to stop dripping, much longer than usually. It could be stress, or it could be the savage aggression he did it all with. Sergio doesn’t care. He washes the last white drops off of his leg hair, turns off the water and steps out of the cabin. His wet, reddened face is watching him from the mirror across the bathroom. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he returns to the bedroom, glances at Raquel. Nothing’s changed, she is still asleep.

He puts on a shirt, drops of water on his skin appear through the fabric, and then wanders to the bed. He is beyond exhausted, both mentally and physically. Sergio takes a deep breath and lowers himself onto the blanket next to Raquel. He grimaces as he takes off his glasses to clean them with the towel he’s still wearing.

He can’t give up on her, he has _no_ _right_ to give up on her.

It’s that he’s no longer sure what _giving up on her_ even means. Is he being selfish by keeping her near? Is he just trying to ease the guilt? Would she really be better off in some luxurious facility where her every need would be taken care of by highly paid professionals who _know_ what they are doing?

He lies down onto the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her. Raquel is a light sleeper when she is not on any meds. Sergio knows he’s being selfish, but he desperately needs it, at least this one time. He needs to be close to her, feel her body next to his after so many months and years apart, even if he _also_ knows it might not do her any good.

His wet hair on the pillow next to hers, he rolls onto his side and freezes like that, watching Raquel’s breathing. She rests on her side, too; _left side_ , just like any other night he’s seen her. Her face straight in front of his, Sergio knows: for the first time, he is losing control. In a rush of despair he moves closer and before he even knows it he’s brushing her hair with his fingers. This feels both amazing and terrifying.

All those times he’s done so in the past when she was dozing next to him after their love making. All those times he admired her sleeping beauty and never even once thought it could be taken from them. Her face so close to him he can feel her burning breaths on his neck, Sergio closes his eyes, tears running down his cheeks again.

She’s here and she’s not.

She’s alive and she’s not.

He rolls onto his back, never moving an inch from her. He’s feared Raquel would react to his presence in her personal space, but no, she is asleep, blissfully. 

And that is when she shifts. Her breathing deepens, lips tremble. She inhales sharply, taking in the smell of him, and Sergio realizes with horror that he’s too close to her. Before he can pull away, she sobs, a sound more like a roar coming from her chest. She weeps, inhales again, and then her palm is pressed to his collarbone. At first he thinks she wants to push him away, but instead, she’s _clinging_ _to_ him, her face moving closer. Raquel inhales even deeper, faster, almost like she’s suffocating; sobs becoming louder and turning into moans.

Astonished, Sergio stays still. His face upright, he can barely see her, but he can feel and hear her very well. Without opening her eyes, Raquel is now pressing her face to his neck, he can sense the wetness of her tears. Her palm on his chest, she cries with her entire body. Reluctantly, Sergio shifts a little and wraps his left arm – as much as he can reach – around Raquel’s shoulder. His touch moves up and rests _there_ , soothingly caressing the back of her head. She trembles.

He hears some inaudible sounds come from between her lips, but her mouth is pressed to his skin and he cannot pick out the words. They _are_ _words_ , he is almost certain.

Sergio holds his breath. He lies on the bed, wet towel around his waist, a librarian's pajama shirt on his torso, a woman he thought he’d lost – crying with her face buried against his neck.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's still here?


	5. Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tested on Natz. She's still breathing (thank you so much, girl!):)

Sergio doesn’t sleep. He stays still, lying on the bed as Raquel’s crying subsides and she drifts to sleep, still clinging to him; but he can’t sleep. He watches the ceiling through his misted glasses, afraid to breathe. Unsure of what has just happened, Sergio spends the night thinking. Raquel’s face still pressed to his neck, her arm on his chest, he doesn’t even feel how cold his feet get without a blanket. When he does, he ignores it completely, same as he ignores the wet towel and then – past midnight – his numbing limbs.

He doesn’t sleep, but then he suddenly _wakes up_ , a strange feeling of something ticklish on his lips. _Inside his mouth_. Sergio jerks before he even opens his eyes, and when he does, he presses his head back onto the pillow. It’s Raquel’s hand wandering across his face, her fingers slipping in between his lips as she does.

Afraid to scare her, he doesn’t breathe for several seconds, trying to figure out how not to startle her.

Then he whispers, “ _Estoy contigo. I'm with you, Raquel.”_

She stops what she’s doing and lifts her head above Sergio’s as if studying his face (except she can’t see him, he repeats in his head). Her lips tremble; Sergio guesses that what he sees is a smile. It’s hard to tell, but Raquel’s body relaxes completely as she lays her head onto his chest, her hand in his hair.

He must be dreaming.

His freezing cold legs say otherwise. They hurt. He’s awake. This is really happening.

“You’re here,” he whispers and something gets stuck in his throat.

Before he can continue, there’s a loud beep on his laptop. An alert he’s set for news concerning him or Raquel (or anybody else from a rather extensive list he’s put together). Sergio carefully gets out of the bed, and Raquel follows him to sit up.

News can wait.

He smiles and sits beside her, wondering how amazing it would be to finally pull her close and hold her with his arms; instead, he tucks away hair from her face. Sergio can see her mind isn’t fully with him. It sways between reality and whatever her consciousness has created to hide. But as the day goes, he spots more and more presence in Raquel’s features.

At breakfast, as drops of food are left on her lower lip, Raquel licks them off. At lunch she holds Sergio’s free hand while he feeds her, and at dinner she leans towards him when he wipes her mouth after eating.

When he puts her to sleep at night, she catches his hand and doesn’t let go of it until he settles on the bed next to her. He waits till she falls asleep, his mind restless.

He calculates different scenarios and different outcomes. One thing he knows now for sure is he cannot leave Raquel behind in some facility. She's come back, _she's come back for him_ , and she needs him by her side.

_He needs help to make sure they can live their lives._

With that thought Sergio hurriedly sneaks out of the bedroom. It’s time to tell people what really happened at the Bank of Spain five years ago.

He exhales slowly, steadying himself, then quickly fixes his glasses and types a message on his computer. Within minutes he gets a response from his IT team. _They’re good to go_.

As a late night interview with the Spanish president begins, there is a short announcement that it’s going to be a live broadcast. _Bingo_. Sergio nods, glances at the bedroom door and then sends a ‘ _yes’_ to his team. He gives the journalists a few minutes to talk. New directions Spain is heading. Economical instability. Unemployment… Nothing’s really changed since Sergio remembers being a kid. Then the President starts speaking. Sergio watches the guy. This one is new.

 _Fresh course, fresh promises, fresh ideas_. Does he realize it cannot work if the _system_ remains what it was?

“I apologize for the interruption,” Sergio begins, and he can see everyone in the studio jerk and look around, confused. “My name is Sergio Marquina, but you know me as El Professor. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, señor President,” he pauses, watching panic take over the studio. They cannot see him, it’s just his voice coming through their hacked microphones. “First of all, I’d like to assure you all that you are not in any danger,” he adds. “All I want is to _talk_.”

He lies and he knows it, but this is a fair lie. He sees the President’s face change. The man stops looking confused all too fast for Sergio’s liking. _Politicians_.

“Good evening, señor Marquina,” he nods at the camera. “I take it there is something important…”

It’s like a dance. Sergio leads, and to his delight, the President follows. Public wanted El Professor to come out of hiding – here he is. And not just blaming the government for hurting the woman he loves...

“So, señor Marquina, you think _you_ are the good guys?”

“No, not at all, I’m not saying that. I would like to point out that _government_ shouldn’t be trusted, that is all. You have a habit of lying to your own people.”

“Coming from a famous thief, your words don’t have that much credibility, I’m afraid,” the man laughs leniently.

“Oh, but señor President, I wouldn’t dare asking public to trust _just_ my words,” Sergio pauses, takes a deep breath and sends a text message to the IT team. “In a few minutes my associates will upload certain video footage…” he lets the silence sink in for more dramatic effect, because this is when he finally sees the President lose his composure. This guy may be new, but he sure as hell got his hands dirty, and right now he fears that _that_ will come out. Sergio chuckles.

“It’s not as much about you personally, I apologize for that, señor President. But I think public has the right to know who really stole gold reserve on your predecessor’s watch. Don’t you?.. His people should have checked the Bank of Spain for hidden cameras _before_ loading all that gold into government trucks.”

Releasing it five years ago, in the heat of a massive leak of fake documents, made no sense. Sergio appreciates that he was talked out of it. God be his witness, he _wanted_ to throw all the heavy ammunition he had to sink Spanish government. _And probably Spain with it._

Now, however, this revelation will have a proper effect. _Authorities stealing the gold reserve of their own country_. Sergio’s eyes become darker as he watches the smug face of the man on the screen. That bastard really thinks this is a bluff. Deep down Sergio wishes they had not abandoned the gold back then. He wishes they had taken it as they had planned, but that wasn’t an option at the time. They had to run for their lives. And they did.

It wasn’t enough for the government to storm the deserted Bank of Spain and find all the gold intact (even though melted). Authorities needed a bigger win – so they _misplaced_ the gold, imitated the biggest international chase in history and then brought the gold back. Not _all_ of it, of course, blaming a two billion euro loss on the robbers who were never apprehended.

No one really questioned it. In the public eye it seemed reasonable after everything the gang went through at the Bank of Spain. The sad reality was that the gang was too busy mourning their losses to care about anything at all.

“I think we lost Professor,” president’s smiling voice pulls Sergio from his thoughts. It’s like nothing gets to this guy, he chuckles. _Politician to the bone._ “As I was saying, a change of political course isn’t something that happens overnight, but we are working very hard …” president continues his speech like nothing happened, and Sergio clears his throat. He’s not done talking.

Except, _he’s no longer on air_.

It comes as a surprise, and Sergio raises his eye brows, staring at the screen. He absentmindedly checks if the light on his headphones is on, then sends a message to his tech guys and reaches to click the _disconnect_ button. That’s when he hears some chatter, and before Sergio can guess what is happening, a familiar voice shouts into his headphones. _Tamayo_.

Sergio glances at the screen once again – president’s interview goes on. They must have rerouted him somehow.

“I’m just watching the little movie you released, Professor,” colonel laughs into his ears. “You know, this shit proves _nothing_. Not after your gang used our own military trucks to get inside the bank... But let’s talk one thing at a time. _We want Murillo back_. _Now_.”

Sergio coughs, “You must be on something really strong, colonel.”

“You are a delusional psychopath who released two murderers and kidnapped a police officer from a hospital. The very police officer you had tortured for God knows what reasons!” Tamayo explodes in Sergio’s headphones.

Sergio’s heart rate goes up, he can feel the blood pumping through his veins twice faster.

“There is no press this time. Who are you trying to convince?” he spats, his voice cold. 

“I might buy that you didn’t do it personally, but stop playing games already. We know it was your gang that kidnapped Murillo when we took the gold back,” Tamayo’s voice sounds much calmer after a pause.

“Colonel, you’re delusional.”

“And you’re a murderer and a pathological liar. But you’re calling _us_ , so there’s something _you_ want. And I don’t think it’s a helicopter or a cargo ship, cos you’re already on the other side of this planet. So what the fuck is it?”

“I want you to acknowledge what you and your colleagues have done, colonel. That’d be a great start.”

Tamayo laughs, “And what’s that, exactly?”

“ _Raquel_ _Murillo_.”

There’s silence.

“Look, Professor. I get it. You had less control over your gang than you thought. You really didn’t _know_ , and it must be frustrating. _All the more reasons to give us those psycho associates of yours_. I’m sure you’ve already had a good look at what they did to poor Inspector, haven’t you? If you truly have feelings for her like you claim you do, wouldn’t you agree she deserves justice? “

Sergio opens his mouth to respond, and then shuts it, realization bright as a daylight. They _are_ recording him, and they _will_ edit whatever he says right now. It will be just like the Royal Mint again, only this time it won’t be Raquel Murillo choosing a daughter of a British diplomat over Spanish children. It will be him, Sergio, El Professor denying justice to a woman he is supposed to love. He stays silent.

“There's a problem with the way you see this situation,” colonel continues. “Inspector Murillo, regardless of what your goons did to her, is still an officer of the Law. And we must _rescue_ her. _But_. If you are right – which you’re not, I assure you – and she never worked undercover, then,” he laughs, and Sergio can imagine his twisted face and gloating eyes. “Then she is a thief and a murderer, and a traitor, and we must _arrest_ her.”

There is a pause, and Sergio can hear an inaudible chatter on the other side. Apparently, colonel has the microphone covered while consulting with someone.

“If Raquel Murillo is a _trusted inspector_ , she will get the best medical care we can arrange… Her family will be protected. If she is who _you_ say she is, we will have no choice but to throw her into a prison for the rest of her life. The longer you are holding her, the more we are likely to _believe you_. Make no mistake, we _will_ find you, Marquina. There is no hole on this planet where we won’t look. Thailand, Cambodia, even the jungles of Myanmar… You see her, don’t you? Now imagine her in prison like that,” Tamayo pushes through his teeth. “And yes, that’s a threat.”

While _Sergio_ wishes he could burn whatever place the colonel is in right now to the ground, _Professor_ takes note how unusually picky the man is with his words. And that's not because there are people around him. He knows Sergio is recording him, too. Sergio purses his lips. They’ve both studied each other’s playbook thoroughly.

“Tell me, Marquina. Just be honest with yourself for a change, and tell me, did you really not notice any of the coded messages Murillo gave us on the phone during negotiations?”

“With all due respect, colonel, and I’m afraid that after what you’ve done to her, I really have _none_ , there weren’t any secret messages,” he takes a deep breath, his mind calculating his next words. “I have all the recordings of all the calls to the tent, and…”

“How did we know where to find you then?” Tamayo cuts in, smirk obvious in his voice.

“Because you are not completely incompetent at your job, colonel. It took you exactly the amount of time I expected. That’s why it happened where it happened. We were ready and we were able to escape…” he trails off. They _were supposed_ to be able escape, but things went so terribly wrong Sergio still winces at the memory. _Professor_ inside his head reminds him it was all an accident, an error in the otherwise perfect plan.

“I don’t know if you’re delusional or just stupid, Marquina.”

“I know what you’re doing. This won’t work, I assure you.”

“Won’t it? I thought truth always works…”

“This isn’t the truth, you’re twisting facts, colonel.”

“Do you remember where we _apprehended_ Murillo? Do you _really_ believe a trained officer like Inspector wouldn’t know that’d be the first place we check? _Do you_? She wasn’t hiding. That farm was her extraction point, and her _extraction_ went flawlessly.”

“Not so flawlessly,” Sergio spats. “If she was working for you, why didn’t she wait for me to surrender? I was running towards the barn, I was ready to surrender to save her life. If she was on your side, why?”

There is a moment of silence, and Sergio breathes out and in slowly. It amazes him how anything can be twisted.

“Because having you in custody was not our priority,” he finally hears and his eyebrows fly up in surprise. “You’d no longer be in control of your trigger happy armed to teeth goons inside the bank. Tell me, why on earth would we want that? They’d not surrender. They’d make a mess, a bloodbath. And Murillo knew it. She’d spent enough time with them to learn each and every one. So stop this comedy, and return her to the authorities. Or better yet, surrender yourself as well while you are still breathing.”

“I think you’ll change your mind on the matter very soon, colonel Tamayo,” Sergio spats through his teeth and ends the call. It takes him a few hours to calm down enough to sleep, and when he does sleep, it is restless. But then the morning comes, and there is Raquel lying with her check pressed to his shoulder, and the scrutiny of the night doesn’t seem so taunting.

Their morning is quite smooth, and Sergio finds himself falling back into their usual routine. Nothing stands out as he feeds Raquel with breakfast, walks her to the bathroom and sits by her side, telling her silly stories. She isn’t _gone_ , he can tell, because she’s very different and her face isn’t pointed at the floor, but she’s reserved most of the time.

At lunch she tries eating by herself. It comes surprisingly unexpected, when she simply stops the spoon with her palm right in front of her mouth, and then wrinkles her nose. For a moment Sergio wonders if, maybe, food is too hot or she isn’t hungry, but only a few moments later she clumsily takes over the spoon, spilling most of what’s inside onto her lap.

It’s not really working, and the amount of food on her clothes (and on Sergio’s, too) exceeds the bits she manages to get into her mouth. Eating in a complete darkness would be hard enough (though he’s not sure if darkness is what Raquel sees), but then Raquel’s hands aren’t obeying her, wrists too stiff and fingers not bending properly.

She goes on, though.

Her face doesn’t indicate much, but Sergio can spot annoyance and embarrassment. He knows her too well for his own good; it upsets him to see her struggle, and at the same time he cannot believe how happy he is she doesn’t give up. She goes on till he has to tell her that the bowl is empty. Raquel moos to that, hands back the spoon and then freezes with her palm just an inch from wiping her chin. She waits for a moment, but before Sergio can react, she proceeds and makes an even bigger mess. The drama of the moment doesn’t take away from Sergio’s excitement.

“We need to change your clothes, Raquel,” he says in good spirits, laughter in his voice. She nods, seemingly aware of her surroundings; and Sergio excitedly starts explaining to her every step of what exactly they are going to do. Him stepping by her side and carefully pulling her up to her feet; his hand on the small of her back as they walk to the bathroom; the silence of the door that he isn’t going to close behind them; his hands on her chest, unbuttoning the shirt, and then – on her hips, pulling down stained pants. He warns her before he turns on the water, and then again – when he has to touch her with a wet tissue. It’s a slow process, and he _does_ feel like an idiot, talking to himself, but Raquel rewards him with small reactions.

She slightly pulls away when he comes to stand next to her sitting figure, but after a few seconds of awkward stillness _she rests her forehead on his belly_.

She flinches when he presses his guiding palm to the small of her back, but before she starts walking, _Raquel’s hand lies on his shoulder_.

And then she trembles, visibly fighting her own panic, while he undresses her; but _never moves away from his touch_.

She stands still like a statue while he cleans her with a wet tissue, her eyes shut, her face – an ugly grimace of hurt and embarrassment. It must be hard for her to be present in all _this_ , Sergio admits and does his best to make her feel comfortable. He wants her to _stay_.

When they’re done, he wraps a dry towel around her chest – it’s big enough to cover her hips, but not too long for her to have difficulty walking back to the bedroom. He talks to Raquel again, explaining every smallest piece of what is happening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything but pajamas,” he concludes as they reach the bed and he lets her sit down, his hands close to her in case she falls.

It is a scary thought and Sergio shivers as soon as it crosses his mind: he’s gotten used to this new version of Raquel. Her tiny figure, ready to break if so much as wind blows; the scars on her skin, the painfully unnatural posture and pale paper-like skin. He’s stopped noticing these things, stopped wincing every time he looks at her. All he sees is _her_.

He stands still, processing this strange notion, then picks up two sets of clothes, weighting them in his hands. Does it really matter what colour of pajama she wears? He sighs. It should; to her, _probably_. Not so much the _colour_ ; giving her a _choice_ seems like a good thing to do.

With his knees on the floor in front of Raquel, he puts both sets of clothes onto his lap, one next to another, and carefully pulls her hand, placing it on top of neatly folded pants and shirt.

“This one is green,” he whispers, watching her hand relax and move along the line of fabric. “The fresh green, like the grass after a rain in April… The other one’s light terracotta,” Sergio adds after a pause and moves her hand onto the other stack of clothes. “With an ornament.”

She wrinkles her nose and frowns, confused. Sergio has no idea what she expects him to do, so he waits until it starts being ridiculous. He’s just about to get up when Raquel jerks her hand back to the first pajama he introduced, and then she pulls it towards her. Her face relaxes as she licks her lips.

He helps her into pants and tank top, but then there’s a strange pause, when Sergio stands with her long sleeved shirt in his hands, ready to put in onto her shoulders, but Raquel avoids his touch.

“Yes, I understand,” he mumbles uncomfortably. “You hate _pijamas de bibliotecario_. No librarian shirts for you, noted.” He guesses the mild change of expression on her face indicates she’s satisfied. Sergio can see she even tries to say something, her jaw moving slightly and her lips parting a few times, but nothing comes out of her mouth.

He shakes his head _, this is his imagination,_ _nothing else_.

As if following his train of thought, Raquel waves her hand in front of her, visibly trying to find him. It lands on his hip and stays there when something remarkably similar to a ‘ _thank you’_ comes with a breath from her mouth.

Sergio's jaw drops.

He takes off his glasses and robs his eyes violently till they are angry red and teary.

“Do you hate those mashed vegetables I cook as well?”

He knows they are disgusting. She nods carefully and purses her lips. Sergio blushes. He’s an idiot.

“Okay,” full of enthusiasm, he sits by her side on the bed and Raquel shifts a little to turn to him. They stay like that for a few seconds, just facing each other at a distance of an arm span. “Would you… Would you maybe like a fruit smoothie, then? Or a soda? Ice cream?” he offers shyly. She stays motionless for some time and then just crashes forward, burying her face against his lap, crying out loud; wraps her arms around his body as much as she can reach to keep him from leaving.

 _Deep breath in. Deep breath out._ Sergio pats Raquel on the back of her head trying to comfort her.

They sit like that for a long time. Sergio won’t tell, but it cannot be less than an hour. Raquel’s crying becomes quieter gradually until it stops completely. She shifts, pulls her feet onto the bed, and stays like that, with her head resting on Sergio’s lap and her arms wrapped around him. He wonders if she’s fallen asleep, but her hold on him doesn’t get any weaker, so he assumes she’s very much awake.

He talks. It’s random and meaningless, because _Sergio’s_ mind is incapable of thinking straight and he doesn’t want to let _Professor_ anywhere near them right now.

His hand slowly moves from Raquel’s head, caresses her neck and then, with just the tips of his fingers, it slides down, onto her shoulder blades. She shifts a little, but doesn’t indicate any discomfit, so Sergio continues his journey. He avoids the panic button he’s found earlier – _no touching between the shoulder blades_ , he reminds himself subconsciously – letting his fingers trail her spine at a waist level, then move onto her biceps.

Only when Sergio feels his lower part of the body has turned completely numb, he shifts under Raquel. She pulls herself up, and he’s sure if her eyes could see, she’d look at his face wondrously. Instead, she’s just frowning into the space before her, her gaze directed at Sergio’s chest (because it’s straight in front of her, he tells himself).

It all overwhelms Sergio to a point where he can no longer hold back his own emotions. And with emotions come mistakes.

Out of good intentions he takes Raquel to the terrace – it’s a beautiful one, completely secluded from prying eyes with a tall bamboo fence he loves especially. It’s nice outside. The air smells delicious from a bakery two streets away; and the sun caresses skin with a soft touch of warmth.

Raquel freezes as she steps through the door, her eyes automatically close as the bright rays of light reach them. She stays still with Sergio by her side, ready to catch her should she lose balance. Her breathing deepens and she takes a few steps forward. He can see she enjoys it and he moves away to give her more freedom (and pull up a sun deck chair, because he just loves how utterly happy Raquel looks this very moment, and he wants her to be able to enjoy it as long as possible).

There is a soothing mix of sounds coming from the street. And then there is suddenly a dog barking in the building next to theirs. Sergio smiles at the sound. Silly little critter probably failed to catch a bird in the balcony and now complains all about it… But the very next moment, just as he pulls the chair for Raquel to sit, she screams from the top of her lungs.

She pushes him away, knocking the chair to the floor; her voice gets even louder and fills with more panic. Sergio’s horrified. Raquel’s having an episode very similar to the ones she’s had in the hospital, and she’s having it _outside of the sound proof apartment_.

Hell. 

He tries to soothe her with words, but she doesn’t hear him, her screams becoming louder. Scared that people around can hear her and call the police, Sergio - or rather _Professor_ , because Sergio won’t admit he’s capable of that – grabs Raquel into his embrace, tight, while being punched and kicked. He drags her towards the door. It’s hard, she’s fighting him every step of the way, all while screaming like a wild animal. He snaps and presses his palm to her mouth to quiet her. He regrets it the next moment, but it’s already too late – her whole body starts shaking. As soon as they are inside apartment, Sergio releases Raquel from his embrace and closes the door.

She rushes away from him, knocks off a tea table and trips over a couch, finally crashing onto the floor, panting. Her screams are deafening, and she keeps crawling backwards until her back is pressed against the wall, her hands rapidly hitting her own head…

“Raquel, please!” he pleads again, much louder than he dared outside. “Raquel!” he doesn’t make a single step to close in on her, afraid to scare her even more. He still hopes to avoid giving her sedatives. He wants her mind here. He fears she’ll pull back to wherever her mind was hiding.

“Raquel, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, Raquel!”

He just doesn’t know what to do, standing helplessly a few feet and a sofa away from Raquel who is nowhere near calming down. What has he done.

Sergio bites his cheek, panic overwhelming him to a point where he no longer cares if Raquel is going to come back to him. She’s hurting herself right now. He runs to the kitchen and pulls a syringe from the fridge, then rushes back to Raquel’s side. Her situation isn’t changing, and Sergio grimaces as he tries – and fails – to get through her hysteria. This is exactly why he should have hired a nurse. _Anybody_ who’d help him right now, because, as strong as he is, he can’t steel Raquel enough to inject her. She fights and convulses - her movements chaotic and unpredictable - and knocks the syringe from Sergio’s hand. He growls and clenches his fists. Damned be his brilliant idea to take Raquel to get sunlight, damned be that barking dog and damned be him, Sergio, for not being able to do anything when it’s really important.

He pulls a blanket from the bed, takes a deep breath. _God, please, no_. Sergio swallows and opens up the blanket in his hands, then throws it over Raquel’s fighting figure. There’s really no other way, he keeps telling himself. He wraps the blanket around Raquel’s body, presses her back to his chest and keeps her like that, realizing with a juicy _oh fuck_ that he now cannot reach the damn syringe.

He sits on the floor, holding Raquel as tight as he can, and bangs his head against the wall. Once, twice. He stops counting.

Raquel’s fighting gets weaker, she is clearly out of breath and her screams gradually turn into loud wheezing and coughing. He fears she’ll snap again as soon as he lets go of her. Instead, he carefully shifts her body in his embrace, turning her to rest her face against his chest. This somehow feels more natural.

It’s a literal fiasco, Sergio admits and warily glances at the door leading to the terrace, almost expecting to see a policeman there. _No, no, no._ He looks down at Raquel. She is finally calming down, her hysteria reduced to quiet tears and sobs. Oh, he screwed up big this time, he knows it. Sergio sweats, salty drops rolling down his forehead and armpits.

It takes until late evening for Raquel to finally stop sobbing and trembling. Sergio holds her a little longer, and then carefully lets go of her and pulls away the blanket. Like a ragdoll, Raquel sinks down onto the floor and curls into a fetal position, hiding her face in her hands. Sergio curses under his breath as he realizes his pants are wet, as is the blanket, as are Raquel’s pants, too. He’s almost ready to accept that he cannot do _this_ , _any of this_ , he’s just too emotionally attached to be able to actually _help_ her.

Problem is, whoever doesn’t care _this much,_ won’t believe there’s any chance at all.

He showers quickly, then, stands above Raquel with a tissue in his hand, unsure how to proceed. She seems absent, lying on the floor with her face hidden from his sight. His own body hurts on a physical level after all the fighting and struggling. He sits by her side, covers her feet with a shirt he was going to wear and rests his back against the wall. His head is pounding. He promises he’ll just close his eyes for a moment, because he still needs to clean and change, and feed, and move Raquel to the bed.

He falls asleep shortly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any kind of feedback is really-really helpful, I promise you <3  
> 


	6. Doubts

He knows it’s a dream. It’s too ridiculous not to be. The flying goat, the half transparent building on his left, the gummy bears in his pockets. It’s a dream, but he can’t seem to snap out of it, and that annoys Sergio a lot. At least, at first. Until it starts scaring him as well.

It’s not even the darkening sky or the broken glass in the windows around him that do the trick. It’s the strange feeling of despair. A feeling of something coming his way, something he cannot see.

Bluish sand creaks under his shoes as he walks down a staircase. It’s dark around him, and as he goes, it gets darker. “Don’t go there,” he hears his own voice panicking inside. “ _No bajes ahí_ ,” a female voice repeats, barely audible. He puts one foot after another, unable to stop or even slow down.

He looks on his right – a dimly lit panic button on the wall. For a brief moment he considers pressing it, hoping it might pull him out of this dream. By the time he reaches out to do so, he’s moved too far past it.

“Where’s the Professor?” he hears a male voice coming from somewhere far ahead. An angry voice with a hint of panic in it. Sergio wants to stop. He wants to wake up. He wants to run up the staircase into what sounds like a pouring rain (or, perhaps, it’s a squad of goats pissing from the sky, his mind suggests, and he winces in disgust).

“I don’t know!” comes a female voice, and Sergio’s breath gets stuck in his throat. No, no, no, please, no.

“Where is the Professor?” male voice repeats with more anger, and something in it sounds strange, but Sergio cannot nail it. He walks forward, unable to stop, until he reaches a metal door with a small window. He leans in, biting his cheek.

There she is, Raquel, her toes just an inch above the ground, her arms tied behind and pulled above her head. Sergio’s eyes widen, he tries to scream, but nothing comes out of his throat.

_You can’t scream if you’re dreaming._

There’s a male silhouette walking around her, Sergio cannot see his face, but he’s much bigger than Raquel. He punches her, his white shirt sticking from under a jacket is stained in red.

“ _No lo sé, no lo sé, no lo sé,”_ she keeps crying out as the man’s knife goes through her clothes, hitting flesh on the way.

And then there’s a dog, or rather half of it, barking at Sergio, pulling the leg of his pants, and when he looks back through the door, Raquel’s already on the floor, the man towering above her.

She slowly gets up – _please, just stay on the floor, please, don’t be so stubborn,_ Sergio mentally pleads with her – and the man grabs her, presses her body to his, covering her mouth with his palm. She bites him – and her tiny figure flies into the nearest wall. Raquel’s lips red, she instinctively covers her head with her hands as the man approaches again. He squats. Something sparkles on Raquel’s cheek, moving from the corner of her mouth to the ear. For a moment Sergio thinks he can see her teeth where he definitely shouldn’t be able to see them.

She screams from the top of her lungs, and Sergio screams with her, _silently_.

And then the man lets go of her and turns around, giving Sergio a good look at his face. Sergio feels bitter vomit in his mouth as their eyes lock on each other.

It’s _him_.

It’s _Sergio_ staring at him from inside the room.

He pants and punches the door with his fists as his other self just walks around Raquel's broken figure curled in fetal position, his red footprints on the floor.

Sergio unwillingly takes a step back. And then another one, and another. He walks backwards until he stumbles upon the stairs, turns around and runs towards the light in the end. He catches a glimpse of the panic button on his way, running too far on the other side of the stairs to reach it, and then the sun blinds him, as he makes it to the top and finally stops.

He’s hyperventilating. Looking around through half closed eyes, he watches the blue ocean and the yellow sand with palm trees. This is a dream, an awful dream, he knows, because he looks down and what used to be his usual suit is now just hair between his thighs, and nothing more. He’s standing there naked, pinching his arm in an attempt to wake up.

When he finally does, he jumps up, bangs his head against the wall; breathing rapidly, looks around, confused. Sergio presses a palm to his mouth, unsure whether he’s screamed out loud. He stares at Raquel – she is curled up on the floor by his side – her sleep seemingly peaceful, her features relaxed. Sergio’s heart physically hurts, extending the pain to the left shoulder and arm and numb ribs. It takes about ten minutes for him to be able to get up onto his feet and slowly walk to the bathroom.

He closes the door behind him and turns on the lights, scarily looks at his reflection in the mirror. He reaches into the cabinet and pulls out his meds. It’s not that often that he needs them, almost never, really. But right now he swallows a white pill without hesitation, and then sits on the lid of the toilet, his face hidden in his hands, pulsation from his temples echoing in his fingers.

He knows these meds kick in slowly. An hour later, though, he doesn’t feel much better. His chest still hurts, his lungs on fire, his throat dry.

Dragging himself out of the bathroom, he trips over his own foot and falls, crashing onto the tea table Raquel dropped the previous day. It’s dark inside, only dim light of the rising sun coming through a glass door of the terrace, but Sergio can see how messy the room is. He moans, pulling himself up. His body hurts, his mind still trapped inside that dream, replaying it over and over again.

He carries Raquel to the bed, involuntarily wrinkling his nose. Her wet pants stink, but he doesn’t dare to take them off. Should she wake up this very instant, he’s got no power for a new fight. Instead, he tucks a blanket around her hips to keep the smell away from her nose. She’s still asleep.

“Good morning,” Sergio quietly speaks into a cell phone, when he is finally in a different room. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“It’s fine. When do you need me?”

“Not today, I’m afraid. I… Seems, not any time soon. I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you. I’ll pay you anyway.”

“Don’t worry, my friend. Any time. Just call me.”

“Thank you.”

Sergio puts down the phone. He was so optimistic just a day ago; too excited about Raquel’s progress. He knows now he shouldn’t have made any arrangements. Not before she was _actually_ well. _Idiot_.

It feels like he’s chasing his own tale.

He needs to communicate with Raquel to make her recovery efficient. He needs Raquel to _speak to him_ , or else, he fears he’ll continue messing her up. Problem is, for her to be able to speak, her jaw needs a surgery. Which then brings at least a month long recovery with eating and drinking through a straw, and Raquel _can’t do that_ if her mind is as blank as an empty page…

It’s a vicious circle, Sergio purses his lips.

He winces and takes off his glasses to wipe them. Why on earth did he think she’d be good for a postoperative rehabilitation so soon? (Thinking back on how suddenly she snapped, he isn’t even sure they’d manage a surgery itself).

He slowly makes it to the terrace, taking a deep breath; cold air feels refreshing on his face. He closes his eyes and lifts his face upwards, as if to stare at the moon through closed eyelids. Sergio doesn’t know how much time he spends there, just standing with his mind blank, but when he comes back inside, he can clearly hear a loud beeping coming from the desk in a living room. He flushes with hope as he runs towards the sound.

Impatiently, he pulls an old cell phone from the drawer.

 _Took me awhile to remember this number_ , the text from an unknown subscriber reads.

 _We weren’t planning on ever using it_ , he types back. It’s painfully slow, and he has to press each button several times before he can get the right letter.

 _I hoped we would. Those bastards deserve their asses fried,_ comes back after a minute.

 _Any word from the others?_ Sergio types, and this time it takes longer for the response to come. Perhaps, it was risky to designate Tokyo as the only person capable of reaching him, but at the time it seemed fair. After all, it was her idea to make the video he’s now using to set them all free once and for all. That is, _if his plan works_.

_Bogota and Stockholm, so far. I’ll give one more day to Denver and Helsinki._

Sergio purses his lips. He was such a mess when the gang had to split up that Tokyo took it upon herself to assign locations to everyone. Now she is the only one who _knows_ why Denver and Helsinki might need an extra day to get in touch. If Sergio had any more energy at the moment, he’d be annoyed. Instead, he simply accepts it as a given. It has only been 30 hours since he released the video after over five years of complete silence. Deep down, he is utterly relieved (and somewhat even surprised) Tokyo remembered their small agreement.

_When you are ready to stick it to them for killing Lisbon, release the video we recorded in the Bank of Spain._

He would release it, and Tokyo would get the gang together…

His intentions are somewhat different now, Sergio admits. It’s not so much about sticking anything to anyone as it is about ensuring he and Raquel can have some resemblance of a life. With her current state he knows for a fact they cannot keep running.

 _Professor, how are you holding up?_ Tokyo texts again, because he hasn't reacted to her very short list of the people who are in for the ride.

Sergio looks at the tiny screen of the phone, wondering what he should respond. She didn’t just watch the video where government agents loaded gold reserve onto the trucks. Tokyo’s clearly seen the other news from Spain as well.

 _It’s under control_ , he lies, then puts back the phone and walks to the bedroom.

It’s early morning, and he knows that normally Raquel would sleep a couple more hours, but this is no normal morning, not after what has happened yesterday. And Sergio finds himself dreading the moment when she wakes up. He has no idea what to expect.

To take his mind off of waiting, he checks the news.

Media outlets are all busy with this revelation about Spanish gold reserve. His and Raquel’s escape has disappeared almost completely. After just one day, there are press conferences and even an investigation launched. Sergio knows that investigation won’t lead anywhere, though.

That’d be weird if the very people responsible for the crime managed to catch real criminals.

He doesn’t need them to do anything. He just wants them to be busy for some time. He also hopes that in the heat of blaming each other they’ll give out some information on what has really happened to Raquel. This isn’t the goal, but it would sure make a good bonus to know who _exactly_ did this to her. Sergio hasn’t decided what he’ll do with the information when (and if) he gets it, but he wants to know.

_Just in case he feels utterly bloodthirsty when this is over._

An email comes from his IT team.

He wants all gadgets of anyone who might be involved tapped. Home computers, phones, children’s gaming consoles. The team agrees. It will be quite expensive, but well worth it. They’ll need time.

He sends the payment; makes his coffee and then freezes with a cup in his hand, remembering how he took his meds just a couple hours ago. The cup is back on the counter, and Sergio sighs, walking out of the kitchen.

By the time he pulls himself through the door of the bedroom, Raquel is already waking up. He can tell by the way her breathing changes and then she starts moving, first pulling her knees even closer to her chest, and then half-straightening her legs. Sergio can feel his heart pounding in his throat – his panic present even through the pills he’s taken. He sits at a distance and watches her.

_Good morning, Raquel._

_Did you sleep well?_

_How are you feeling today?_

All these suddenly get stuck in his throat, sounding too much like something her torturer would ask. What if his words trigger her again? Sergio swallows hard.

_Do you want some coffee?_

_Can I sit near you?_

_Do you hear me, Raquel?_

_No, no, no._ These are all bad, so very bad, Sergio presses his palms to the temples.

_I just talked to Paula, she says hi._

_Paula’s Chinese is almost fluent._

_Your daughter makes the best omelet in the world…_

_Fuck._

How many times had _they_ mentioned her daughter while trying to make Raquel talk? How many times had they threatened to hurt Paula or made Raquel believe they’d found the girl? Sergio takes a deep breath. He might as well just tell Raquel how her daughter drove his motorbike into the sea when he tried teaching her to drive. Or how Marivi woke them up in the middle of the night once, thinking she’s made lunch and serving sand with flowers on the plates… And then, _Paula was fourteen when she lost her virginity, and I am so sorry I failed to take good care of her, Raquel_ … At least, this is true; something Raquel’s interrogators would never say to her.

Sergio shakes his head and watches Raquel sit up on the bed.

“Hi there,” he smiles awkwardly, because staying silent any longer might only make things worse. “I really suck when I have no plan, Raquel, and right now I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to get better… But I love you so much I keep screwing things up. I’m such an idiot,” Sergio mumbles uncomfortably, more to himself than to Raquel, but then his eyes widen in shock.

As soon as the last words leave his mouth, he can clearly see Raquel shaking her head. _Slowly, carefully._ The gesture so obvious, Sergio cannot blame his imagination for playing tricks on him. He breathes out with a smile of relief on his face. Her eyes are pointed straight at him, and for a moment Sergio wonders if maybe she somehow sees him.

He gets up and takes a few steps towards her, but stops when she raises her hand, palm pointed at him. They stay like that, both breathing deeper than they usually do. Raquel’s face is tensed, her jaw moving slightly, the vein on her forehead pulsates visibly.

“Are you…” Sergio trails off, because she shifts her raised arm, extending it towards him, her palm now directed upright. This almost looks like an invitation. Reluctantly, Sergio puts his hand onto hers, and Raquel slowly pulls it to her face. He desperately needs to clear his throat as it’s suddenly itchy and sore, and it hurts to swallow, but Sergio just follows her arm and steps in front of her, shifting from one foot to another, awkwardly.

She closes her eyes and presses his palm to her mouth, covers it with her both hands as if to make sure he cannot pull away. Sergio frowns in fear. Raquel trembles, her breathing accelerates to a point where it looks like she’s having another episode. 

“It’s me, it’s Sergio, Raquel. I’m not…” he wants to promise not to hurt her, but then remembers last night and bites his tongue. What if he messes up again?

Her eyes fly open, her tears reaching Sergio’s palm… Two seconds later she pulls his hand away and lets go of it.

“Raquel?” he calls quietly and lowers himself onto the floor before her.

There is a million things he’d like to say to her, a million things he’d like to ask her, a million things he’d like to do _for_ her, but he keeps on sitting and watching her trembling features.

“You came back,” she finally breathes out with visible relief, her lips barely part as she pushes the words between them.

Sergio swallows hard. He feels his nose getting stuffed. Raquel’s eyes shut tight, she reluctantly raises her arm again, but this time it moves to Sergio’s face, freezing a few inches from his skin. He wants to take her hand, to cover it with his own, he wants to pull her to his chest and caress her back soothingly. Instead, he’s just watching her, his heart skipping every other beat. He’s waiting.

After almost a minute of slow motion Raquel’s palm finally reaches his face, her fingers tremble at the contact. Her touch wanders across Sergio’s chin, the freshly grown beard on his jaw line, up across his lips, the mustache. It’s ticklish, but he steels himself not to scare her off. When her hand makes it all the way to his forehead, it rests there, and Raquel laughs through tears.

“Please don’t leave me,” she begs, her words hard to catch. Blood pounds in Sergio’s ears and his hands sweat.

“Never,” he responds and weightlessly covers her hand with his. “I… I won’t. Never again, Raquel.”

He knows it isn’t a promise he should have made, and he regrets it the very next moment. It isn’t fair. He cannot know what future holds. What if he dies. What if he gets caught. What if… He blinks these thoughts away. He’s got a plan, and there is no reason for that plan to fail, Sergio reminds himself. All he can do right now is be patient.

Raquel’s laughter turns into sobs.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he whispers and sits beside her. He pats her shoulder soothingly, and they stay like that till she starts shifting on the bed uncomfortably. “Oh, I’m so bad,” Sergio gasps. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

She moos in response, and he finds himself mumbling every step of their way just like he did yesterday.

It feels different, though. She’s present; and she’s very uncomfortable. When they reach the bathroom, Raquel presses her thighs together as soon as he warns her he’s about to pull down her pants to sit her on the toilet. It takes her a few seconds before she nods, and Sergio can’t help but shyly look away.

When she is done, she extends her hand, palm upright, and he hesitantly hands her the tissue. She nods and then winces as she tries to navigate her hand. Sergio quickly looks away again. He can hear her groan stiffly, and when he turns back, frustration is all over Raquel’s face.

They’d made love. They’d touched each other; kissed each other all over their bodies, but _this_ is a different level of intimacy. He nods with understanding, even though Raquel can’t see it. She pulls herself up to her feet and sways.

“Maybe a shower would be easier?” he offers, and a roar comes from her throat. No shower. Sergio frowns. “Should I..?”

She nods before he finishes the phrase. He tosses away her dirty clothes and cleans her with a tissue – familiar process takes three times longer, because he keeps checking up on her face and apologizing.

She chooses light blue pajama and tilts her head when Sergio brushes her hair. He thought it was hard for him _before_ , when she was barely there (or not at all). He knows _that_ was easy. _This_ is hard. He asks Raquel if she’s alright every time he spots tears on her cheeks, and at some point he realizes he’s just annoying her, because she starts turning her face away. She doesn’t insist on eating breakfast by herself, perhaps, embarrassed of his overreactions.

He’ll have to find a new balance.

“Are you… Are you here?” he asks carefully, when they finish with food and she stays motionless, staring before her with unseeing eyes.

For a moment, there’s no reaction, but before Sergio can start panicking, Raquel moos.

“Are you comfortable?” he adds, uncertain, and moves closer to her.

She rests her head on his shoulder, wrapping her hands around his chest, and pulls her feet onto the bed, then exhales through her mouth. Sergio thinks for awhile.

“Are you… Are you in pain?” he adjusts his glasses nervously. He can feel Raquel press her palm to his back before giving him a positive rumbling. Sergio sighs, caressing her side soothingly.

“Do you want some pills?”

_No._

This feels so strange. He’d thought things would be easier, _clearer_ when Raquel’s no longer a ghost, but it seems even more confusing.

“Do you want me to talk, Raquel?”

_Yes._

Sergio takes a deep breath. He wants to tell her about her daughter, and about her mom and their cat and how they’ll go home… But he fears to push her emotions, so instead, he sticks to small random stories about people she’s never met. Most of them coming from the books he’s read, some – from his life.

It’s when she lifts her head and grimaces, trying to speak again, that he can physically feel her pain in his own cheekbones. The effort she puts into it both amazes and hurts Sergio, even though this time he has no idea what she attempted to say.

He can see how frustrated Raquel gets, because she hears her words are not comprehensive. It is quite possible that yesterday’s screaming caused her extra harm.

“We have to do something about it, Raquel,” he licks his lips and weightlessly touches her chin, fingers following her uneven jaw line and resting on her neck next to the ear.

She sighs.

Sergio wonders if he was too quick to dismiss his surgeon friend, after all. But then, would words like _doctor_ or _surgery_ do damage right now? When he slowly pulls away from Raquel, he isn’t sure how he’s about to proceed. One thing for sure, he _has_ to try. This situation causes her too much distress.

 _“_ Can I have a quick run to the kitchen? I want to try something.”

Reluctantly, she pulls away, allowing him to get off the bed. He comes back a minute later.

“Do you think you could try drinking with a straw?” he asks. “It’s water.”

She pauses before nodding slightly, and raises her hand to help him put the straw into her mouth (she mostly makes it harder for him, but Sergio accepts her assistance anyways).

He wonders if Raquel can guess what this is about. With her twenty years of police experience she cannot possibly _not know_.

She shows very little discomfort when Sergio talks about procedure, and after lunch he calls his friend again, his voice excited, hands trembling impatiently.

What Sergio doesn’t expect is that things get even more challenging for him _after_ the surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm one of those ficwriters who really loves hearing from you. Questions, theories, emotions, judgements, speculations, impressions - they help a lot! If you are shy to leave public comments, here's my twitter: https://twitter.com/MariaPurt  
> You are very welcome in my DMs. I promise I don't bite.


	7. Changes

It all starts with scissors in Sergio’s hand.

That’s one thing to know the process in theory, read the instructions, the _dos_ and _don’ts_. It’s a different entity when this is your new reality.

“Someone must be near her at all times. If she chokes… or starts throwing up… or has trouble breathing, you cut them. Got it?” his friend doesn’t sound like a friend. He’s in a full doctor mode, and Sergio fights an urge to allow _Professor_ inside him to take over.

“I cut them,” he repeats, blankly nodding, and his friend stares at his face, expecting more reaction.

“You cut the wires inside her mouth, yes. And then you get me here, so I can re-wire her jaw.”

It’s not the first time he says these words, and Sergio knows what they mean. He isn’t afraid of blood, he isn’t disgusted either. He’s uncomfortable that it’s _her_ , Raquel, who they’re talking about. His mind paints him a bright picture of just how terribly things can go.

 _How terribly he might screw up._ She coughs and throws up, liquid stuck in her mouth, because she cannot really open it. He holds her tight, pulling her lips to push the scissors deep enough to reach the metal threads and cut them before she actually chokes. _Splendid_.

Sergio shivers and looks down at Raquel. She’s just waking up from narcosis.

It starts with the damn scissors, and then goes on, rapidly pulling Sergio into a living hell where he has no personal time nor space any more. He doesn’t mind it, at first. It seems only fair, it seems right. He got her into this mess, and he can help her to get out. But as the days go by, Sergio’s going crazy. He desperately needs to hide in his shell even just for a bit, to re-group. He needs to think straight, but he cannot. There is so much going on, and he gets zero opportunity to process it…

If he’s honest with himself, it starts before he holds those scissors in his hand.

_The late night, when his blindfolded doctor friend steps into the apartment._

He checks the room Sergio equipped with medical tools (it isn’t that good, but man, he only had three days to finish it all before he had Raquel here), then quietly checks on Raquel. Her features absent, Sergio worries she might just snap, but the anesthesia test goes well (he does hold her hand and whisper to her ear the entire time).

Despite having seen all of her x-rays beforehand, the doctor still visibly tenses at the sight of her. Sergio grimaces: he remembers how he himself felt the first time he laid his eyes on Raquel, he’s not surprised. They wait, and when Raquel doesn’t get any worse, he puts her to bed, staying with her until she drifts to sleep.

“That’s going to be a long surgery,” his doctor friend whistles when they leave the bedroom. “General anesthesia, and I’m worried how her heart is going to take it…”

“She’s a fighter,” Sergio states.

Doctor nods thoughtfully. They don’t talk much as he retires to the bedroom quite soon.

They start first thing in the morning. Raquel’s mind still present, she isn’t as comfortable about any of it as she seemed before. Sergio can see how she sways between wanting to hide her fear and wanting to be comforted.

Raquel sits still on the operating table in their improvised medical room as she’s being injected with the anesthetic. The first problem they face is that she cannot – will not – lie on her back before she completely dozes off (which, in a way, makes it easier to tell when exactly the medicine takes effect as she slowly drops her weight onto Sergio, who keeps her pressed to his chest the entire time).

Looking down at Raquel’s stretched body with all the sensors attached to it, Sergio sighs.

 _It will get better_ , he promises her silently.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Sergio starts as he sees a scalpel is his friend’s hand.

“A-ha.”

“How comes you can do it all by yourself? No assistants, no nurses… Field training?”

“Old school,” doctor whispers, carefully making the first cut. “You know, fourth year students, we operate on living dogs. Class splits into teams. No one knows who will do what, so everybody learns an entire procedure. Each team gets a dog and has to perform a surgery. If the dog lives, we get an A…”

“Uh, sorry, what? And if someone makes a mistake?” Sergio’s eyes widen.

“Then the dog doesn’t wake up after narcosis, and the team gets an F,” he says without turning to face Sergio.

“That’s… horrible!”

“That’s just a dog. If you can’t handle it you shouldn’t be a surgeon. Humans won’t wake up if I screw up, either…”

Sergio stands there, unable to look away from the operating table. Human error has rarely been so clearly and simply put for him.

Raquel wakes up towards the evening, the sensors still attached to her, and Sergio cannot stop staring at her face. It looks completely different. It looks so much more like _her_ somehow, even with the metal frame and bandages following her jaw line. And then it hits him: her lips. They don’t stick forward in an awkward duck-style grimace anymore.

“Those bridges are temporary, but I needed something to fill the space between her jaws,” he hears his friend explain. “Not very strong, but should be enough till it heals and you can start with tooth implants.”

That’s _it_. From the outside Raquel’s face looks like she’s got her teeth back – Sergio realizes – at least until she’d open her mouth (which she can’t, her gums drilled and fixed together to make sure her jaws stay in place).

As Raquel starts regaining her senses, they lift her slightly to her side, supporting her back with a cushion. Sergio talks to her until she wakes up completely and confusion disappears from her face. Raquel sniffs and moans when she touches her face, palm slipping down the metal frame, making Sergio wonder if her painkillers are enough.

And then he finds himself standing by her bed with the damn scissors in his hand, and it all just goes crazy from there.

The first night he barely sleeps, listening to Raquel’s breathing and almost jumping every time the sound slightly changes. He cannot focus on anything during day either – constantly checking that he does indeed have the scissors right by his side, jerking when Raquel makes so much as a squeak. What’s comforting is that Raquel seems to be even more present, and Sergio excitedly talks to her, asking all kinds of small questions. He does feel beyond exhausted towards the evening, though.

The second night Raquel wakes up roaring and hyperventilating, and Sergio jumps so hard he falls off the bed and lands badly onto the floor, bruising his shoulder.

When the same thing repeats the next night, Sergio braces himself and asks her quietly, awaiting a storm to hit right into his face, what Raquel was dreaming about. Carefully, clumsily, with a lot of effort she draws with her disobedient fingers on the screen of a tablet a _don’t remember_ , and this time it takes even longer to sooth her back to sleep. Twice she seems to doze off and then jerks, coughing, making Sergio grab the damn scissors. Every time he does so, his hands tremble.

The next day Sergio decides to do something rather risky and arranges for Raquel to talk to her daughter (not really talk, but hearing Paula’s voice from the speaker affects Raquel beyond his expectations). Her eyes wide open, for the first time her face indicates excitement. He sees that she wants to say so much, and then she struggles with the tablet drawing as her fingers keep jumping from one spot to another, and in the end he can only recognize a _miss you_ and, when the call is over, _thank you_.

When the fourth night comes, Raquel refuses to go to bed without him. Sergio can see she is afraid of something, but all she gives him is a _please_ on the tablet screen. It takes some doing to convince Raquel to let him go take a shower, where he cannot even close the door, scared he won’t hear if something happens… He ends up running into the room, naked and covered in soap, damn scissors in his hand, when a muffled sound of stuff falling onto the floor and Raquel’s annoyed whimper come (she simply tried to get up from the sofa and walk somewhere).

Some hours later she wakes up again, shaking wildly, sobbing and clinging to Sergio’s body as if she’s drowning. It takes until the morning for Raquel to calm down, and then she shifts on the bed, turning onto the other side, pushing her back to Sergio’s chest. He holds his breath – and before he breathes out, she reaches for his hand and pulls it to press his palm to her belly. They both fall asleep when the sun is rising. From there, this is the only way Raquel falls asleep, with her body spooned by his…

Sergio finds it challenging to keep track of what is happening outside of the apartment. The investigation into gold disappearance leads nowhere just as he’s predicted (but the media keeps government and CNI on their toes), and his IT team is yet to send him anything actually valuable from the tapped gadgets. The network of people whose phones and computers are hacked widens day by day, following each call made and email sent. Sergio knows that authorities are getting somewhat desperate when there’s a yet another attempt to make him and the gang look bad: this time it’s one of the officers whose face was burnt during the war at the Bank of Spain.

 _This means he’s digging in the right direction._ They wouldn’t care to pull that poor guy from his early retirement if they didn’t feel threatened.

To Sergio’s surprise, _the guy_ doesn’t just scold the robbers for shooting a missile at his truck. He has a lot to say about the way that operation itself was handled, or rather, _mishandled_.

Sergio’s team pulls social media to the stolen gold as much as they can, but there’s this never-ending flow of pity towards the tortured undercover Inspectora coming from God knows where. It almost makes Sergio wonder why it’s so important for the CNI to find Raquel. Is she a leverage against him? Are they trying to prove they are not completely incompetent?

His mind settles to think the government just uses her as a shield to cover their own misfortune (thought getting caught stealing your citizens' gold isn’t just a misfortune, Raquel’s heartbreaking story makes good counterweight headlines).

_The poor single mother who tried to stop terrorists and was tortured by them._

They’ve even dug up Raquel’s and Paula’s old photos and now parade them, showing what a happy life Inspectora Murillo'd had before the Royal Mint robbery swept her off her feet. Yet, they choose to omit why Raquel _is_ that _poor single mother_ in the first place. Hypocrites.

If Sergio had just a little more energy, he’d consider reaching out to her ex husband and tricking him into lashing out. Some good journalism wouldn’t hurt.

_The Inspectora, abused by her husband, found no support from her colleagues at the police._

Or better yet.

_The poor single mother running from her abusive husband, caught and tortured by the very police supposed to protect us._

Sergio closes his eyes. He’ll get the media narrative back where he needs it, but that can wait a few days. He looks at Raquel who’s violently smashing her hand against the tablet screen, trying to draw him a message. This isn’t fair to use her in this fight; she’s had enough of her dirty laundry on the international television when she’d let Sergio and the gang go.

Sergio forces himself to focus on _here and now_ : the tablet on Raquel’s lap.

Should he try to guess what she wants to say? It could make things easier right now and save Raquel a lot of effort. Or it could backfire, making her feel like she fails even at small things.

 _Lunch,_ he finally reads on the screen, and that’s when he curses, jumps from the sofa and curses again. A smell of burnt food comes from the kitchen. Sergio’s completely forgotten he was cooking.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs and pats Raquel on her shoulder. He’s such a mess…

She reaches for his hand and covers it with her palm. It feels warm and so relaxing that for several moments Sergio forgets about burning food, a fight with the government and even the damn scissors that should be in his pocket but are not…

And then there is Paula, yelling at him through the headphones. She’s got a point, he can’t deny it. He’d promised to bring her mother home, and he’s nowhere near fulfilling that promise. Instead, as days go by and he keeps tabs of how authorities’ search for him and Raquel goes, Sergio feels it’s time to move his family to a more secure location. He knows that keeping it up against the government won’t be possible for too long, he’ll simply run out of funds before Spain does, but this whole mess shouldn’t last that long.

He hopes.

A few days later he hires bodyguards for Paula and Marivi, because hiding his family doesn’t feel like enough anymore. For once, colonel Tamayo wasn’t joking when he said they’d turn every stone. Sergio wonders if they use official channels or simply bribe the corrupt authorities.

He checks on the gang’s progress. Their papers go through various contacts of his, one person at a time to avoid drawing the slightest attention.

Stockholm is to arrive first, flying into Porto and then taking a car to Madrid. According to Tokyo, it makes the most sense, because no one is really looking for the redhead (and even if she gets caught, it seems she’ll be viewed as a victim). He disagrees with her logic, but feels fine with the outcome. Three days apart from Stockholm, Tokyo plans to fly into Toulouse and then enter Spain through Andorra. She’ll take charge of the safe house and prepare it for the operation (Sergio wishes he could be the one doing all that, but he cannot). A week after that there will be Helsinki, and then Denver. That is, if everything goes according to the plan. Not _his_ plan, Sergio purses his lips, calculating all the things that can go wrong. Unfortunately, he is bound to accept that he is in no position to argue with Tokyo or to rearrange what she’s come up with.

Sergio sighs, and then there’s a sound of broken glass coming from the living room, and he knows he’s spent five minutes too long in the toilet, because dropping something onto the floor has become Raquel’s way of calling for him. He blinks rapidly; trying to push down his irritation, he pulls up his pants and runs to her, squeezing the scissors in his hand, afraid this time it might actually be something urgent. He really has no right to be bitter or annoyed, he knows. But he is tired. He hasn’t slept properly in over a week, and he isn’t sure how long he can still balance it all before things starts crumbling.

She’s terrified. She’s needy. She goes from numb to nuclear within moments, and he doesn’t always see it coming (truth be told, he _barely ever_ sees it coming). He loves her beyond words, but he needs a moment to regroup, and he gets none. She wishes him by her side every moment of every hour. As her mind becomes clearer, she starts waking up at night if he tries to sneak out of the bed.

And then, she _keeps_ waking up screaming in his embrace (not really screaming, but it takes Sergio several nights to figure out that the only thing keeping her relatively quiet is the wires connecting her jaws). She is mortified, pulling his arms around her own body.

Two weeks pass after surgery, and Sergio feels he’s on a brink. He’s losing himself, and not even _Professor_ can handle the pressure. He sees the damn scissors in his dreams when he manages to fall asleep at all.

As if to finish him off, his IT team chooses exactly this time to send him a video of Raquel and colonel Prieto in an interrogation room. It is over three hours long, and Sergio holds his breath when he sees the date stamp.

 _This just came up in an email chain between CNI officers_ , a message to Sergio reads.

He worries why a video from the day he and the gang left the Royal Mint came to light now.

Sergio takes a minute to fast forward it – both Raquel and Prieto keep sitting at the metal desk the entire time, her hands cuffed at first, and then they’re not. He’ll deal with it in the bed once Raquel falls asleep.

“Raquel, please,” his voice a mixture of annoyance and plea (but mostly plea, Sergio claims in his mind). She keeps insisting she’ll manage getting undressed on her own, and it’s already taken so long that Sergio’s mind is drifting off to sleep.

It’s been a particularly complicated day for them both, and he feels like he’s about to crash onto the floor and fall asleep here and now. Raquel shakes her head and goes against her tank top once again. Sergio isn’t angry, he knows. But he hurts for her, he feels her misery all too well as she struggles to pull the piece of clothing above her head and fails for what feels like the hundredth time. He can even spot tears in the corners of her eyes. He’d rather she just let him help her, because he can’t stand seeing her like this (and because he’s barely standing on his feet, if he’s being honest).

When she finally succeeds, Raquel sways, having pulled at the top too hard and now just following it to a side with her entire body. Sergio jumps to catch her, his hands on her shoulder and her hip.

“We really have to be careful,” he snaps, steadying her with his touch, and the next thing he knows, Raquel’s hand flies up and there is something smashing into his scull, _something_ that feels like a cup that he’s left on the sink after brushing his teeth. The pain is sharp, and Sergio’s vision blurs as he hears the sound of broken glass drop onto the floor. He feels a push and sees the sink approach his face all too fast, and then there’s another blow to his head. For a few moments he feels dizzy and can’t see anything but blackness.

When he comes to, he lies on the floor.

_Fuck._

He blinks a few times, trying to understand what happened. Slowly pulling a hand to his head, he touches where it hurts the most and sees blood on his fingers. It’s not dry, yet, so he hasn’t been out for too long, he hopes. With growl, he rips his head from the floor. His body is heavy, and Sergio looks around, still confused. He holds onto the sink for support, and sees more blood there. Memory of what has happened comes back to him, and he jerks.

 _Raquel_.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

The force she’s hit and pushed him with terrifies Sergio. This wasn’t a seizure-like episode she used to have before – this was different. He swallows. Her movements didn’t seem random or chaotic. They were deliberate and very fast (perhaps, he’d have seen them coming if he’d had more rest, but that changes nothing).

_What did he do? Did he trigger her?_

Was it his touch? His words? His attitude? He tries to think back, but his mind is paralyzed with pain and panic. He looks around, seeing nothing but hazy silhouettes of different colors.

Sergio attempts to get up and almost falls back, his head pounding, his knees giving in. His hand wanders on the floor in search of his glasses. They’re broken, smashed beyond repair. He curses under his breath and forces himself into a standing position. He can’t see much, but the big dark stain on the floor must be the blood from his head, Sergio assumes. He glances at the mirror as he rushes out of the bathroom – he can’t even see himself in there.

He walks through the apartment as fast as he can, still limping and swaying on the way, calling out for Raquel worriedly. She’s nowhere to be found. Sergio feels panic rising in his throat, and he rubs his nose as if searching for his glasses, and he calls for her even louder. _She couldn’t have walked out of the apartment, could she?_

He goes around again. Bathrooms, bedrooms, kitchen, living room. She’s not there. He feels dizzy and his eyes hurt every time he turns on the lights in every new room. _Come on, Raquel, please, where are you._

He fears she’s hurt herself, he fears she’s run away (even though he knows that is unlikely and rather impossible), he fears she’s choked to death while he was unconscious. Taking a deep breath, Sergio blinks away the purple and green puddles dancing in front of his eyes, and starts his search all over again.

“Raquel?” he calls out quietly, taking one step at a time, _slowly_ , looking under and behind furniture and curtains. “Raquel, where are you?”

Nothing but the _creak_ _of his soles_ against the floor breaks the silence.

“Raquel, I’m not going to hurt you,” he calls again.

_Behind open doors, under the blankets on the beds, inside the medical room, on the terrace._

He pukes, unsure whether it’s his concussion or an anxiety attack, presses a palm to his lips to prevent warm liquid from splashing onto the floor. Sergio goes on searching, realizing for the first time just how big the damn apartment is.

“Raquel this is me, Sergio. Please, Raquel, please…”

He steps inside the bathroom that still has his blood on the floor, carefully looking around. There’s nowhere to hide, so he turns around and walks through the door.

There’s sudden movement he catches with the corner of his eye before his mind can register it. Sergio ducks instinctively, and the next moment a stool swings just above his head. Raquel squeezes its leg between her palms, a grimace of pain and confusion on her face.

The vein on her forehead is ready to explode.

He rolls to a side before she can crash the stool onto him, his movements slow and clumsy. _Hers – too._ The stool lands just in front of Raquel, her grip not strong or tight enough to hold it longer, and Sergio yells Raquel’s name in panic. It’s like she thinks he’s trying to attack her. She throws a kick, hitting the air and missing Sergio’s body by a lot. She’s blind, he reminds himself, quietly crawling backwards.

She cries, pressing her back to the wall and moving like that further away from Sergio. He sees her face covered with blood, some of it dripping from her lips. She’s scratched herself all over, trying to remove the metal construction on her jaws.

“Goodness, Raquel,” Sergio breathes out, unable to move his eyes from her face. He takes a deep breath, watching her panting figure.

As the first wave of adrenalin wears off, so does his panic.

She’s alive. She’s here.

“I’m not going to touch you,” Sergio states quietly, but firmly. Overpowering Raquel to hold her in his embrace when she is like this seems cruel. “I’ll sit here, on the floor,” he shifts into a more comfortable position. “I’m _not_ approaching, Raquel, you…” he means to say _you can stop running_ , but that suddenly sounds scary like hell. “You don’t need to run,” he pushes instead. “I’m just here, I promise.”

As he sits and waits, he sees her rapid breathing slow down. She stops moving, and just freezes with her back still pressed against the wall and her arms now wrapped around her body.

He speaks, his voice soft.

Deep down Sergio isn’t completely sure whether it’s him she’s afraid of or the images from the past her mind trapped her in. It does astonish him how she fights even when she has no way of winning. He wonders if this is why she’s got so many marks on her body – because she wasn’t _complying_ , not just because she wasn’t answering questions.

“You know, we’re back to Palawan, Raquel. Paula kept saying that _that_ was home, so we moved…” Sergio speaks softly, his tone almost fit to be a lullaby. “Moved there two years ago from El Salvador. It’s beautiful, you’ll like it.”

Palawan also seemed like the last place on earth _they_ would look, because it was already a ‘burnt’ location, but Sergio keeps this part to himself.

He watches Raquel calm down gradually. He wonders if maybe he should be doing something else, but somehow this feels the safest. From a distance, he sees her breathing become more even, and then she carefully slides down onto the floor, her back against the wall.

“And we have a mango tree just beside our house. Not your favorite kind, though. Those tiny yellow ones. And it’s huge, so every morning I come out to find at least a dozen fruits on the ground. If there’s wind, a ripe mango even fell onto my head a few times while I was picking them,” he laughs slightly, staring at her face. When she finally seems relaxed, he gets up and walks to her, sits by her side, pressing his back to the wall too. Raquel lowers her head onto her side and rests it on his shoulder.

Sergio sighs.

He can feel the blood on his face drying. It itches, and the bruise must be getting bigger with every minute. His temple pulsates with dull pain. He hears Raquel moo something, and he assumes she means to say she’s sorry. He wonders if he’s right, but doesn’t dare to ask.

“I’ll get some ice for my head, and then we need to take care of your bleeding,” he states quietly and gets up.

Walking from the kitchen with a pack of frozen meat pressed to his face, Sergio turns into the living room and sends two texts. One to his doctor friend, asking to come as soon as possible, and one – to arrange transport. Unsure if his head injury is bad, Sergio fears he might lose consciousness, because he does feel nauseous and lightheaded. Even at her weakest Raquel remains a fighter.

Wincing as he touches the wound on his head, Sergio notes to be more alert in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback of any kind in any form is helpful, I promise! Theories, guesses, questions, criticism - yes, please, I'll have it all.  
> And here's my twitter in case you don't feel comfortable leaving public comments. DMs are open and Serquel is the best. https://twitter.com/MariaPurt


	8. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our new lovely proofreader says this chapter is fine. If it's not, we all know where to find abbygriffinm 😈😍 (but seriously, thank you for your help, lady!)

To Sergio’s relief there is a knock on the door in just an hour – he’s barely had time to clean blood from Raquel’s face. To him it still looks bad, and there’s still red coming from her mouth. She doesn’t seem to be in any pain, and that is a good sign (with the painkillers he’s giving her it shouldn’t be a surprise really).

Sergio watches Raquel close her eyes tight as the doctor examines the inside of her mouth and then fixes the metal frame on her chin. She isn’t comfortable, but she isn’t pulling away either. It’s almost like she feels guilty.

“Just a few scratches. No damage done,” he hears his friend say, and breathes out with relief.

“It was my fault,” Sergio mumbles apologetically.

“You’re trembling, my friend. She’s healing, it’s alright. You, on the other hand, need stitches. Did _she_ do that to your head?” doctor grins into Sergio’s face as soon as they leave the room Raquel is in. Sergio nods. “Stop trying to do everything perfectly. You can’t.”

“I need everything to be perfect,” Sergio retorts. “Broken things don’t work.”

“Broken things can be fixed,” doctor insists. “Or I’d have no job.”

Sergio shakes his head – and the next moment he regrets doing so. It hurts, making him feel like puking again.

“I make a mistake – and everything goes to hell,” he mumbles, pressing a palm to his forehead.

“No. You make a mistake – and you correct it. And then you laugh about it. I’ve known you long enough to see what’s happening right now. You need to stop trying so hard,” he snaps his fingers in front of Sergio’s face, and Sergio jumps.

“Jesus, when was the last time you stepped out of this apartment? Or slept, for that matter?”

“I can’t. I can’t leave her,” Sergio shakes his head almost hysterically.

“You won’t be able to help her if you lose your shit.”

“You don’t understand, she panics if i am not around,” Sergio pushes.

“You need rest. You look like a ghost of a tortured clown!”

Sergio knows his friend isn’t wrong. He isn’t sure how much longer he can go on like this, and once the first gang member arrives, he goes against his initial plan and asks to bring her to him and Raquel. Having Mónica might be helpful, Sergio does remember her being the only person who got through to Rio when the boy needed it the most.

“Hello, Stockholm,” he greets her somewhat awkwardly as she enters the apartment, pulling her suitcase behind. She might be just the perfect person to help him stay sane. Sergio sighs, extending his hand for a handshake, but to his surprise the blonde pulls him in her embrace.

“I’m so sorry about Lisbon,” she whispers while still holding him tight. “How are you holding up?”

He sighs, unable to put to words any comprehensive thoughts. He fears if he tries to think about the answer, he’ll just snap, so he changes the topic.

“How is Cincinnati?” Sergio’s smile is pale and the opposite of cheery, but Mónica’s eyes shine when she tells him about her son’s science project. Kids grow so fast, Sergio chuckles, remembering the last time he saw the little guy.

“He’s really bright!” Mónica smiles. “Asked for a robotics course as a present for his 8th Birthday, can you imagine?” her smile turns into a soft laughter, and Sergio doesn’t notice how his own face relaxes and lightens up.

It does get better from there, because as much as Raquel freezes hearing Mónica’s voice at first, she very soon seems to remember her.

At first Sergio doesn’t want to notice it, but Raquel seems more comfortable around the blonde. He chuckles. Mónica is all he’s _not_ right now – funny, cheery, _relaxed_. It’s not that he can go too far – Raquel checks if he’s around every now and then, but the more he watches the two women interact, the more he wants _that_.

_The ease, the lightheartedness, the joy._

For the past five years he’s been hating and punishing himself, and stressing over everything, and arguing and making peace with Paula. And this is when he realizes that he’s not really been living.

Most of his life Sergio had been preparing the heist to honor his father’s memory. And then he was suddenly having an actual life, with Raquel pushing and pulling him into being happy, and then… Then there was nothing.

And he doesn’t even mean the crazy things like the ones Mónica so happily tells Raquel about.

No parachute jumping, no camel racing and definitely no sailing across Pacific, God, no.

Within days after Mónica’s arrival, Sergio finds himself more rested than he’s been in a very long time. Raquel still only sleeps when he spoons her body with his, and she wakes up in the middle of the night every now and then, wanting to scream, because her nightmares don’t seem to get any better. But Sergio can see how she is more and more present, until he realizes he’s stopped wondering where her mind is at any given moment.

If nothing sudden happens, he hopes he and Raquel can leave Spain in a few weeks time. A private clinic near Lausanne is more than happy to have them both (mostly due to the very generous fee Sergio’s agreed to, but he values their Swiss discretion when it comes to their famous, and most importantly, _infamous_ patients). Raquel is not a criminal, a fugitive or even a suspect, for that matter. It helps. Sergio, on the other hand… Well, that is where the generous fee and a completely fake identity come in.

He hasn’t told anyone yet, but he does consider bringing Paula and Marivi to Switzerland, too, if his plan works (truth be told, he prefers them to stay close to Spain for some time once his plan works, just to make sure they’re out of the woods for good… On bad days he also admits that they might never be able to return to the Philippines, because with current level of exposure they might become a target for local authorities who’ll want their money).

He hopes his plan works, though. It doesn’t matter much for him where to live their life, as long as it’s _theirs_.

Raquel needs help recovering, and that is going to take both time and a lot of effort. As much as Sergio hates to admit it, he knows he cannot manage it on his own.

He finds himself making more and more arrangements, assuming everything will go well. He only realizes he’s got carried away when his doctor friend visits (as scheduled) and gives him a suspecting look. He’s been obsessing over every smallest detail, every possibility… And this time it isn’t even Raquel’s fault his reflection in the mirror looks like shit.

He nervously holds Raquel’s hand while the doctor checks her jaws, and Sergio’s not sure if it’s his or her palm sweating so badly. Deep down he suspects it’s his.

“It’s healing nicely,” doctor comments as he and Sergio step out of the medical room leaving Mónica with Raquel.

“So we can take it off?” Sergio inquires hopefully.

“We can replace the wires with elastic bandages now. She’ll look like that Hannibal Lecter guy from the Silence of the lambs.”

Sergio frowns, trying to understand the reference. When he does, he tilts his head in annoyance.

“This isn’t funny.”

“It isn’t unless you joke about it. Look at you. You need to ease up,” his friend chuckles. Sergio knows he’s right.

He also admits he cannot do it. He just cannot. His mind is racing forward, knowing that as soon as Raquel can speak again, it is safe to do the next surgery and reset her fingers (thus taking away her ability to use the tablet for communication). Sergio fears that as minor as it is from a medical prospective, the healing part won’t be a smooth ride at all. Raquel has gotten used to the way her hands are, as uncomfortable and annoying as they get.

She _touches_ things when she wants to know them.

She’s even mastered to manage her own clothes most of the time (unless she’s having a bad day, and then her clothes are the least of anyone’s concern).

Sergio sighs.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he responds calmly to his friend as they walk back into the medical room to see Raquel sitting on the operating table, Mónica by her side, patting her shoulders. Sergio changes places with Mónica.

He feels Raquel’s hand tremble in his as the doctor starts removing things from her mouth. She shouldn’t be in pain, he knows.

When they’re done, there are removable dentures on her gums and a net of semi transparent elastic bandages on her face to keep her jaw from moving. Sergio thinks about scissors and how it’s going to be new to him not to carry them around at all times. It’s almost funny, except, it isn’t.

“You’re doing so well,” Sergio whispers to Raquel as soon as they are left alone. He wants to tell her how proud he is, but stops right there. It sounds too patronizing.

Sergio means to kiss her forehead, but before he can do that, she bumps it into his chest, breathing heavily. He kisses her hair instead.

It isn’t until late evening, when they’re done with dinner and Sergio takes her to the bathroom, that Raquel tries to speak for the first time since the surgery. He carefully removes the bandages from her face to clean it, and that is when she opens her mouth slightly. He stops, trying his hardest to catch whatever she’s going to push through her lips.

He fails.

She mumbles something he cannot even guess, and then she grimaces, knowing it didn’t work out.

“It will get better,” he whispers soothingly, but that only annoys her, and Raquel tries to speak again, this time articulating more. The result isn’t much different, but that doesn’t stop her.

“I love you,” she finally manages after several more failures, and Sergio can see how proud she is of herself. Her words aren’t clear, but there cannot be any mistake in what he’s heard. His first instinct is to pull her into a warm embrace and squeeze her as tightly as possible. He even throws his arms around her, but then stops half way, not touching Raquel’s body. He smiles happily, his eyes getting wet, as Raquel leans upwards to his face. It seems like she’s aiming to give him a kiss on a cheek, but misses by a few inches and lands her lips right onto his ear. It’s not so much a kiss – she simply pushes her mouth to his skin and stands like that, on tiptoes, with her hands on his shoulders for support, her naked chest pressed to his.

Sergio’s body trembles at the contact, and he slips his hands on the small of Raquel’s back, caressing it tenderly. She flinches as his touch goes up, following her spine, and he lets go of her instantly, looking into her face.

“Sorry,” he mutters. And then, “I love you, Raquel. You are the best thing that’s happened in my life.”

He can see her smile with the corners of her mouth. A gesture so surprisingly clear he almost doesn’t believe it is happening.

With bandages back on Raquel’s face, Sergio helps her into clean pajamas. He wonders if now would be a good time to try and take her to the terrace to get some fresh air. She’s been inside this apartment for over a month now, and that cannot be too good. Reluctant, he goes through with his idea, dreading all the possible ways it might backfire again. But as many times as he himself walked into the terrace he not even once heard the dog’s barking after the initial incident, so the odds are in his favor.

That goes surprisingly well, all things considered.

Next morning, to Sergio’s delight, Raquel requests to talk with her daughter – _actually_ _talk_ this time, she emphasizes, even though he can barely catch the first word. Paula still talks all the time, leaving her mother to moo agreeingly. Raquel only manages a _hello_ and _honey_. And then, _I love you, cari_ _ñ_ _o_. When the call is over, she cries, first quietly, with rare tears slowly running down her cheeks, and then Raquel’s entire body shudders with violent sobs, wiping the smile off her face completely.

Sergio stands and waits, making his presence as unnoticeable as possible.

She needs her space.

“You will meet her soon, Raquel,” he assures her, when Raquel stops sniffing. He means it as something positive for her to look forward to, but instead, he sees Raquel’s whole body indicate how terrified she gets. It’s so obvious he feels stupid for not thinking about it.

Raquel’s afraid. She hasn’t been with her daughter for over five years, and as much as they love chatting on the phone, a meeting in person is far more demanding. He makes a mental note to ask Paula not to be too enthusiastic when she hugs her mom for the first time. Or, better yet, not hug her till Raquel indicates she’s ready and takes the lead, for that matter.

A beep from his computer pulls him out of his thoughts. Sergio walks to the desk, keeping his eyes on Raquel.

 _CNI will release the video tomorrow_ , the message reads, and it takes Sergio a good minute to understand what it is about. When he does, he grins and laughs. Those Intelligence bastards think they’ve figured out a way to hurt him in the public eye, while in reality he’ll be hurting _them_. He’s more than ready.

“What?” he hears Raquel’s uncertain voice behind his back. Sergio considers his answer for a few moments.

“Nothing,” he responds, turning to face her. She raises her arm, signaling that she wants him to come closer, and when he does, her touch wanders across his lips.

“Liar.”

“It’s really not important, Raquel. I promise.”

She now seems even more curious than she was before. Raquel moos something he cannot understand, then roars.

“Please.”

“I promise you, Raquel. It’s not worth it. Just an eight year old video of your… debriefing,” he breathes out, avoiding the word _interrogation_. That _word_ is more accurate, though, because she cries half way through it, and that’s when the CNI colonel sitting on the other side of the table orders Raquel’s cuffs off so she can wipe her eyes.

Sergio shivers. It’s one of the worst ideas for Raquel to relive that now. He sighs, knowing his refusal won’t make her happy. She gets upset and angry, and she doesn’t try to hide it. He knows he isn’t being fair, but fairness is overrated. And so is honesty.

“What was that about?” Mónica catches up with him as he steps out of the room.

“Good news,” he says under his breath and licks his lips.

“ _Good news?”_ Mónica asks surprised.

“Why. Well, in fact, yes,” Sergio pushes up his glasses.

“But not good enough to share with Lisbon,” she states thoughtfully and somewhat confused. He tilts his head, and she adds with understanding, “Uhhh…”

Sergio nods, walking to the kitchen table with a laptop, then puts on the headphones and starts editing the video he’ll release as a response. He carefully selects parts that speak the loudest volumes.

This is almost too easy. Authorities are too sure of themselves, he grins.

“The government is going to release certain footage tomorrow,” he starts explaining as Mónica stands behind his back and watches the screen with visible curiosity. “That will make it seem like Raquel indeed worked undercover to bring us down.”

“But it’s a fake and we can prove it?” Mónica inquires.

“Even better,” Sergio glows with excitement. “They’ll only release a part of the video. We’ll release the other part that shows how _untrustworthy_ our government is.”

“Uh. Like if we were to make a video of me saying I went with Denver willingly, and that would make Arturo Roman with his _oh poor girl was so happy I tried to save her_ and that whole charade look ridiculous.”

“In a way. Yes. But we won’t do this. Yet. Would you… Would you be willing, though?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs.

Sergio cannot blame her. She isn’t being hunted like they all are, and Sergio has no idea what the financial agreement between her and Denver is. She probably got some of the money, but well… Going public is too much to ask of Mónica, especially now.

When the next day comes, though, as much as Sergio checks on the news, there’s nothing. Later that day he receives another message from his team.

_CNI won’t publish the video. Postponed. Indefinitely._

Did they suddenly get smart, Sergio chuckles.

As days pass, there is no mention of the video in the press, and Sergio’s mind moves on. He knows he can use it later if need be, but he is relieved he doesn’t have to do it now. Raquel’s had enough as it is…

From the moment of Mónica’s arrival, it takes two weeks for the gang to get to Madrid. One by one they travel to the safe house on the outskirts of the capital. It makes more sense, because with no cameras around, they have a certain freedom of movement while they wait for the others…

Once they are all there, they move to Sergio’s apartment overnight. He isn’t particularly excited about the whole idea of having so many people under one roof, and the apartment isn’t _that_ big, but there’s enough room for everyone, even if the gang will have to share spaces and sleeping surfaces; and Sergio hopes for the best. _It’s not for long_ , he keeps telling himself.

“Wow,” Tokyo doesn’t hold back when she steps inside and looks around. “And there I thought we’d all be hiding in some underground bunker with a bucket instead of a toilet. You should’ve said you had such a sweet place, Professor. I’d not be dreading being stuck inside it that badly,” she giggles and then gives Sergio the tightest hug she can.

“Hello,” he manages to gasp as she sways him in her embrace.

“It’s really nice to see you again, Sergio,” she whispers before letting him go. He blinks and nods, turning his head to see the next person come through the door. His eyebrows fly in surprise.

“What made _you_ change your mind, Marseille?”

The way Sergio saw it, this lone wolf wasn’t coming. They shake hands, and Marseille silently nods at Tokyo. She is indeed persuasive when she wants to be.

When Helsinki and Denver make it there an hour later, Sergio greets them and after a short time heads to the bedroom, letting Mónica join the others while he stays with Raquel. He might have been the one who brought the gang together, but they _are_ a living organism on their own. He can hear the cheers when Mónica makes it through the door.

“They’re here,” he states simply as he settles beside Raquel on the sofa. He can see changes on her face. She’s not used to her new ways yet, and it shows. She frowns, pursing her lips, before she speaks reluctantly, half swallowing each word.

“All of them?”

There is no surprise in her voice.

“All but Rio, yeah,” Sergio nods. _All the ones that are still alive_ , he adds in his mind bitterly, biting his lip. He can see Raquel’s even more tensed now. He can imagine she’s not very comfortable with the idea of other people seeing her _this_ vulnerable. He accepts it. He knows the gang will, too, just like they all accepted when Rio wanted out. _He’s just a kid, he deserves a life,_ Sergio’s mind brings back up and shoves down just as quickly.

“It’s late,” he states, looking at his watch. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

It is a stupid question and he knows it. Raquel might be okay _staying_ with Mónica by her side, but she doesn’t sleep without _him_. They’ve tried too many times. He doesn’t complain, though.

“What…” she moves her jaw to make it sound clearer. It takes an effort, and bandages don’t make it an easy task. “What is the time in the Philippines now?” she pushes past her visible discomfort.

“Early morning, why?” Sergio knows the answer before he finishes his phrase. “Would you like to say _good morning_ to Paula?”

Relieved that she doesn’t have to speak out loud, Raquel nods and exhales.

Their conversation isn’t long. Sergio can’t hear what Paula says to her mother, but Raquel’s face is glowing with a mixture of happiness and sorrow. With Raquel’s current state, a _good morning_ and a few more simple phrases is all she manages. It isn’t bad. Paula does all the talking, he can hear her voice at a distance.

When they’re done, he puts Raquel’s dentures into a jar and helps her settle on the bed, then lies next to her just the way they usually do. He relies on Mónica to show the guests to their rooms and make sure they settle in comfortably.

Raquel’s back pressed to his stomach, his hand on her belly, she falls asleep almost immediately. He feels how her breathing changes when she does, and carefully lifts his head just enough to see her face. Somehow, it seems she’d smile if bandages weren’t holding her face so tight. This happens to be the first good night after several bad ones. Raquel sleeps peacefully, and there is no waking up with suppressed screams and tears on her cheeks.

Morning comes late. Sergio wakes up when Raquel shifts in his embrace. He opens his eyes, and her face is right in front of his.

“Good morning,” he whispers, and she blinks very slowly to answer him.

He delegates the breakfast to Mónica, and then peaks quietly, relieved to see Raquel doing much better with a spoon on her own (it’s both amusing and upsetting to Sergio that she won’t do it with him; thought that is his fault for making her feel uncomfortable, he admits). He comes back later, again, and stays with Raquel until he can clearly hear the gang moving around apartment.

“Go talk to them,” Raquel states with visible difficulty. He nods, then hits his forehead with his palm slightly and answers with a _yes_.

He watches how cozy Raquel and Mónica look sitting with their backs pressed against a pillow. Their shoulders almost touching, the blonde reads a book out loud, and Sergio cannot hold a breath of huge relief. This is such a great help. He looks at the book cover – some novel about eternal love _. Of course_. He laughs to himself and quietly exits the bedroom, closing the door behind him. The gang waits for him, sitting in a resemblance of a circle in the living room, beers and chips everywhere. _Mess._ Sergio sighs. Apparently, he cannot have it all.

“So, Professor, now that we’re all here, can you tell us the plan?” Bogota begins as soon as Sergio pulls a chair and sits down.

“How many times have you had to change your locations in the past years?” Sergio begins philosophically, moving his gaze between everyone. They nod thoughtfully. “I think it’s time we stopped running. We haven’t done them wrong, and we shouldn’t be scared to live our lives.”

There’s shock on their faces, and Sergio lets this notion sink in before continuing.

“We can’t give that money back, you know,” Denver laughs awkwardly.

“No, we certainly cannot, because that money is ours,” Sergio agrees. “But it’s not the money that will help us.”

“It’s the gold reserve,” Marseille suggests. “They stole two billions before returning the rest.”

“That gold is out way out. We find it – and they can never go after us,” Sergio answers, gesturing with his hands. He looks around: Denver opens his second beer, Tokyo leans back on the sofa, Bogota stares him in the face and Marseille adjusts his chair.

“They will be faced with a choice,” Sergio continues. “Catching us, a few retired criminals posing no threat. Or returning two billion euros of gold and solving the biggest, most high ranking conspiracy in this country,” Sergio states, lifting his chin proudly.

“It’s not even a choice, the way you put it,” he hears Bogota mutter.

“Exactly. Especially with all the public pressure we’re putting on them.”

“Let’s make those motherfuckers pay for what they’ve done!” Tokyo shouts, raising her bear in the air, and then goes quiet, glancing at the bedroom door. “Shit, sorry.”

She looks around to see if anybody wants to address her unwelcomed gesture, but all eyes are pointed at the Professor. Denver oinks with the beer in his mouth, and Tokyo grins at the sight.

Sergio looks at everyone, expectedly. He knows this was the easy part.

The hard part comes next.

“We are going against the system that no longer obeys any rules. We need someone who won’t give a shit about those rules, either, and that is not me,” he takes off his glasses and robs his eyes. Everyone glances at Tokyo for a moment, but remains silent. This is when Tokyo’s eyes widen in realization.

“You can’t be serious, Professor,” she shakes her head. “You. Can’t.”

“I’m afraid we have no choice.”

Everybody else looks between them as if these two are using a foreign language.

“Come on, Tokyo, you can do it!” Denver grins, and she shoots him a death stare.

“He isn’t referring to me, you idiot. He’s referring to the motherfucking psycho bitch who…”

“Former inspector Alicia Sierra,” Sergio cuts in, and there’s an unbearable silence in the room as his words slip off his tongue.

“Bad idea,” Marseille states expressionlessly.

“No,” Bogota raises his arm in front of Sergio’s chest.

“You do realize she’s tortured Rio and probably had a go at Lisbon too before being arrested, right?” Tokyo leans closer to Sergio’s face and almost whispers her thought about Raquel. Her face looks like she’s about to explode when she does.

“Yes,” he gives a few quick nods. “And trust me, in my head I’ve pictured a lot of ways she should pay for her crimes… But right now we need her.”

“Please, no,” Mónica begs, stepping outside of the bedroom and closing the door. “Have you considered how she,” Mónica points at the door to indicate Raquel, “will feel about it?”

Sergio sees the gang nod in agreement.

Not good.

He knows he can separate Raquel and Alicia if he so much as suspects it will hurt Raquel’s recovery. But he is not willing to give up on a perfect plan for emotional reasons. Raquel won’t need to be anywhere near her former colleague if there are any triggers there.

“Think about it, just for a moment,” Sergio starts quickly before the whole gang settles against his idea. “She’s got no boundaries. We won’t be able to go head to head with people like Tamayo if we don’t have someone just as ruthless as the man himself. We need _her_.”

“She pulled a child into a line of fire just to shoot his mother,” Tokyo spats, blowing her nostrils.

“Exactly!” Bogota adds thoughtfully, and everyone turns to him, unsure of what exactly he means to convey. “Professor’s right. Better have a devil up our sleeve.”

Turning on her heels, Tokyo studies both men for a moment, then folds her hands on her chest.

“So, Professor, you want to do what exactly? Facilitate a prison break for the most hated person in Spain? Are you both nutz?”

“Why would she even help us?” Mónica quietly inquires, sitting down next to Denver. “We’re basically the reason she’s in jail. She hates us.”

“It’s the _system_ that put her there,” Sergio lifts his index finger in the air, Professor mode on. “Not us.”

“This is madness,” Tokyo sighs and crashes onto a sofa.

“This is the _first stage_ of our plan,” Professor pushes.

“I’m in,” Denver raises his hand, and then lowers it, seeing no one else following him.

“How are we doing it exactly? I thought we wanted to stay on the good side of the public perception?”

“Yes, Stockholm, that’s the only way our _main plan_ is going to work,” Professor nods. “But we will not reveal our identities as the ones who help inspector Sierra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your thoughts are very important, guys.  
> I take criticism quite well in case you wonder (I love it, in fact).  
> 


	9. Risks (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big glowy thank you to the very patient abbygriffinm for proofreading this chapter!

It is not a good morning.

Not a _bad_ one either, Sergio admits as he curses under his breath once again, seeing the piles of trash and dirty dishes all over the kitchen. Raquel had a rough night and so did he: waking up every time she did, holding her until she could breathe at a normal speed, talking to her about all the small but familiar things that would make her feel comfortable; asking her what it was she dreamt of and getting the same response over and over again – _don’t remember_ … and then, _I’m ok_.

He wonders – no, if he’s honest, he knows the reason, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it – if her stress comes from hearing so many familiar voices just a door and a wall away from her the previous day. She claims she’s fine, she's even named them all for Sergio last night upon his request, but this whole thing is a big change for her unsteady world right now.

 _Tokyo, Stockholm, Helsinki, Denver, Bogota, Marseille._ Her voice uncertain, she went silent briefly before adding Palermo and Manila, and Sergio held his breath as he mooed negatively. Raquel froze for a few moments after that, frowning slightly as if trying to remember something.

“Nairobi?” she asked in a whisper just as Sergio was about to breathe out with relief that she’d taken the news of their friends’ deaths quite well. Before he could react, she continued, slowly moving her head from side to side, “No. They executed her. They…”

As slow and painful as her speech had been before, it became absolutely impossible to understand after that, so Sergio just held her in his embrace as she cried at the sudden memories, and then she sobbed, and then just sat there, mumbling something with her face hidden against his chest.

When she was finally calm enough to talk again, Sergio carefully probes, “Do you remember what happened after Nairobi’s passing?”

Raquel jerked, her breathing deepened, but her face remained neutral. She wasn't there at that moment...

If Raquel knew about Nairobi, she must have seen the funeral procession outside the Bank of Spain. Or did someone tell her? Would she have believed words?

Sergio’s mind jumps from one theory to another: had Raquel been in the tent like he originally suspected? Was she in a hospital for some reason and, perhaps, saw it on TV? Would her torturers just show her those clips as the means to break her spirit?

“Nairobi…” Raquel repeated, her lower lip wobbling.

“Yes, do you remember what happened after that?”

She raised her arms and covered her face with her elbows, inhaling sharply. When she exhaled, she released a quiet _yes_.

“Can you tell me where you were?” Sergio whispered fearfully, rubbing his nose. That was the closest he’d gotten to get her to talk about…

“Please, no,” Raquel cried, and his heart skipped a beat.

“I’m sorry…“ he nodded, thinking on his feet. “Do you know where you are right now?.. It’s okay, Raquel, I’m right here,” he put his arm onto her knee for reassurance.

“Yes,” she pushed through her lips.

“Can you tell me?”

Raquel stopped breathing for a few moments, slowly pulling her hands away from her face, and Sergio saw her tense. Concentrate. Finally, her eyebrows went up in surprise as she gave a negative answer. Sergio sighed. He was pretty sure Raquel had figured out what he was doing, and she got more and more annoyed as she failed every step of the way. Segio readied himself for this to blow up into his face.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked after he caressed her shoulder silently for a little over a minute to calm down her agitation.

“Yes!”

“Can you tell me?” there, Raquel’s confusion and irritation slowly transformed into fear, and then, much quicker than Sergio would have expected, she calmed down again. “You know all the answers, but it’s hard to put them into words, isn’t it? Like trying to speak a language you haven’t used in awhile. Your brain passively understands everything, but it cannot pick the right words…”

He didn't finish, because Raquel snapped at him, “Yes. I know.”

She licked her lips and growled, tilting her head, then sat quietly for a few minutes, pressing her palm on top of Sergio’s hand.

“I am safe with you,” she finally added when he started shifting on the bed uncomfortably; her speech slow, but clear. Sergio froze, stunned. She managed more than he’d expected.

“Yes, you are, Raquel, you are safe,” he hugged her, unwilling to push any further.

He wondered briefly if that was her carefully crafted way of avoiding to continue the conversation. It would make sense, because her recovery's been progressing much faster than predicted by any of the specialists he’s consulted with… But Sergio shook his head, throwing that thought away.

They went to bed, same way as always, her body spooned by his, but the night was restless, and now Sergio is feeling like a ghost, trying to find the damn jar with coffee without really bothering to open his eyes.

Putting the powder into the coffee maker, Sergio thinks about last night. His coffee is dripping from the machine into his cup when Sergio picks up a noise coming from the living room. It’s not loud, and his ears can barely catch it, but it’s a very familiar voice saying all too familiar to Sergio phrases. His sleepy mind processes it slowly as he walks through the corridor with a hot cup in his hand, yawning.

_“You lied to me, colonel. You promised I’d keep my daughter if I gave you that hangar. But here we are.”_

_“I wasn’t lying, Inspector Murillo. You’re a police officer, you couldn’t possibly believe all that evidence against you would just vanish. We’re not magicians. But if you agree to help us now, they will truly disappear.”_

_“I have no way to contact the Professor.”_

Sergio comes closer and trips over thin air, splashing coffee onto his pants and the floor. His computer! He curses under his breath for just a moment and rushes into the living room to see Tokyo comfortably sitting by his computer, staring at the screen.

_“Then what did you get out of covering for him? Or was it just itching between your legs, God damn it?!””_

_“I didn’t cover for anybody. They escaped, because you let them,” Raquel’s voice goes up and turns into yelling. “And they are not the bad guys, it’s our corrupt system that’s painted them that way. Same way you’re painting me to be what I’m not. I’ve spent twenty years working for the police, and now you’ll toss me aside in just under a day.”_

_“Tell me, Murillo, are you really willing to sacrifice your daughter for the robbers?”_

_“I don’t want to sacrifice my daughter…” her voice trembles. “But I don’t know how to find them, colonel.”_

_“You lied to me once, stalling, while they loaded the banknotes from the hangar, Raquel!”_

As Raquel remains silent in the video, Sergio clears his throat to draw Tokyo’s attention. He’s annoyed. She glances at him and quickly returns her attention to the screen.

_“I’m not lying now. I really don’t know.”_

_“Bullshit!” Prieto slams his hand onto the table and Raquel jumps at the sound, but her handcuffs pull her back._

Sergio sees that on the screen just above Tokyo’s shoulder. He stares, unable to move, even though he’s seen this several times before.

_“You help us find those bastards, or you only see your daughter in the visitation room of a prison, Inspector Murillo.”_

_“No.”_

Finally, as if pulling out of some trance, Sergio puts his cup next to the keyboard and shuts down the video, “Okay, that’s enough.”

“Good morning, Professor.”

“Tokyo, what are you doing using my computer?” he does try to sound calm, there’s nothing new to Tokyo’s behavior really.

“It wouldn’t stop beeping. And this,” she nods at the screen, “Was really just there, sitting on your desktop and waiting to be watched.”

“You’re intruding,” Sergio turns off the screen, still towering above her. His mind is no longer sleepy, sometimes Tokyo is indeed more effective than coffee. 

“This is from after the first heist? The Royal Mint? They must have really freaked out,’ she giggles. “You didn’t say Inspectora knew where the _hangar_ was. How did _that_ even happen?” Tokyo’s speech becomes faster with every word and then slows down again as she takes a deep breath. “Am I right to assume that at some point she says _yes_ to that bastard, though? That’s why you have the video? That’s the part _they_ will use?”

Sergio watches her silently for a moment before addressing “Yes,” he pauses, enjoying Tokyo’s complete confusion for a bit before continuing. “She knew. And, hmmm, yes, or rather, no, Tokyo. They _were going to use the video,_ but it _doe_ sn’t seem like they _will_ , so I’d appreciate if you kept this to yourself for a time being.”

She sighs, pursing her lips, “Why?”

He gives her a look. Her eyes sparkle, and Sergio braces himself, expecting a scene. Instead, there’s sorrow in the woman’s statement, “So I _was_ right. She _was_ a rat.”

Tokyo’s upset. Disappointed.

“Did you know?” she adds almost immediately.

Sergio raises his eye brows, surprised and annoyed at the same time.

“There was nothing to know. _Do_ your research before accusing anyone of anything,” his voice is cold, and he knows his face is too. He is the Professor at this moment. “If you really must know, Lisbon lost custody of her daughter shortly after that interrogation. We had to snatch the girl on the way from school once Lisbon had found me in Palawan a year later.”

Tokyo considers something for a moment, then, suddenly apologizes. Taken by surprise, Sergio doesn’t even register it at first.

“You didn’t tell me any of it,” she adds, lost in her own thoughts, and then shakes her head, grabs Sergio’s cup and sips his coffee. “The kid was cute like hell though!” she smiles. He follows his coffee cup in her hand with his eyes, speechless.

“Yes, she is,” Sergio follows her lead and smiles with the corers of his mouth.

“You like her. The kid. Raised her on your own?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I don’t know, I never thought of you as a family man. Or a parent, for that matter. Even with Nairobi’s child, I figured she’d be raising it on her own, cos you were in a relationship with another woman...” she giggles, sending Sergio’s memory into all those awkward moments when he thought he couldn’t do it anymore. When Paula would sneak into his bedroom and make a complete mess just before it was bedtime… When she’d skip school and run away with her friend, thinking she could go back to Spain to her father if she only managed to get to the airport (that was a close call, he admits). Or when he would get a message from his friend in a local police, asking to pick her up, caught stealing from a tourist – Paula didn’t speak to him for almost a week afterwards, but that was also the turning point between them, because she finally stopped fighting him… “And she must be a motherfucking pain in the ass,” Tokyo goes on, and Sergio sighs, nodding.

“Well, uh, not in such a strong language perhaps.”

“Oh come on, she’s what, fifteen now, bet her language is even stronger!”

He looks away for a moment, pursing his lips, then smiles, “True.”

There is a pause, when both of them think of something they can’t put into words, smiles still on their faces, and then Tokyo becomes strangely serious.

“How is she, really?”

“Who? Paula?”

“Lisbon. How is she? You haven’t said anything, and Stockholm keeps it quiet…”

“She’s better.”

They nod at each other in understanding, then he checks what was beeping in his computer that drew Tokyo’s attention in the first place.

“Everything is ready,” Sergio states.

He knows they’ve spent an entire yesterday studying the prison escape plan, but he can’t stop worrying. It’s rather raw, and it is far from perfect ( _and it is not a heist of the century_ , his tired mind pushes, sounding a lot like Raquel’s voice). “You, Helsinki and Bogota go tonight. Marseille and Denver move out in the morning,” he rumbles fast, studying the screen. It’s not too complicated, merely interfering with the European penitentiary system. Norway sends a Romanian prisoner to Bucharest, Spain wants the French one out, and Austria… Sergio grins.

With a little tech help and a lot of hard work they are going to create a chain of errors that will take authorities across Europe weeks to clear up. By the time all the vans and papers are accounted for, they will realize one of the six transferred prisoners is missing, and it’s not even the one that was supposed to go anywhere… _If all goes well,_ Sergio’s mind adds annoyingly _._

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, relax, Professor,” Tokyo pats his shoulder much harder than he prefers (in fact, he would prefer his shoulder not to be patted at all right now, but he’s not about to argue). “That plan is squeaky clean, we’ll get Inspector Sierra… the hard part will be keeping me from shooting the bitch in the head the moment I see her,” Tokyo adds through her teeth.

“We need her,” Sergio reminds her.

“She better be worth it, Professor.”

When Sergio gets back to his bedroom, he sees that Raquel has already finished her breakfast (and Mónica gestures at him to show that Raquel – yet again – ate it all on her own). Sergio looks closer – yes, he can see that Raquel _did_ by the mess there is around her.

“Did you like the food?” Sergio asks, more to let Raquel know he’s here than to actually get the answer. He’s gotten much better at cooking all these ridiculously mushy meals – a sound of a blender forever carved into his mind.

“Uh-hu,” Raquel moos and nods at him.

“Is there anything specific you would like for dinner?” he probes. This is the third day in a row he asks her the same question, and every time she just stays quiet, lost in her thoughts, until he gives her clear alternatives. This time is no different. “Mashed potato or pumpkin soup?” he sighs.

“Soup,” she answers slowly with visible effort, but it’s not too bad.

She stands up, extending her hands in front of her, and Sergio comes closer, letting her rest them on his shoulders for a moment before he guides her to the bathroom.

“Are you alright?”

“Thank you,” Raquel mumbles, nodding. “I will be, I… I will try.”

He patiently waits for her to deal with the pajama – and seriously considers how to get her better clothes – and as she finally stands naked, he warns her he’s about to touch her with a wet tissue. Raquel stops him with her hand.

“Help me?” she says reluctantly.

Sergio nods, confused, “Of course.”

“The shower. Can we try?” Raquel inquires uncomfortably with a shade of fear in her voice.

“Are you sure?”

She shakes her head, but then adds, “Just be with me, please.”

He walks to the shower and turns on water, never moving his eyes off Raquel. She flinches at the sound. Sergio takes off his clothes and folds them carefully onto a shelf.

“This way, follow my voice when you’re ready,” he tells Raquel, taking her both hands and pulling them almost weightlessly towards his body. Raquel takes a deep breath and starts moving with Sergio, following him. He backs into the shower cabin, still leading Raquel with both hands. “The floor is slippery.”

There is no response. He wonders if they should proceed or just stop, but Raquel takes another step towards him, entering the shower cabin, and gasps as the warm steam reaches her skin. Sergio slowly pulls Raquel closer, resting her palms on his chest, and, without breaking the contact, steps under the falling water. The warmth flows onto his head, down his shoulders and Raquel tenses for a moment when the water reaches her hands. She doesn’t move. She stands there, letting warm drops move along her skin, tickling their way from her fingers to her elbows, to her armpits, to her sides.

“Not too hot?” Sergio inquires, studying her face. He’s all wet now, waiting for her to step forward and join him under the shower, but Raquel’s hands cling to his chest and she remains motionless, visibly lost in her sensations.

“Just perfect,” she responds, making a tiny step forward.

The water still falls onto Sergio’s head, but now also onto Raquel’s elbows. One more step forward – and Sergio sees warm drops follow the curves of Raquel’s breasts and belly. Her lips are sealed and she moves her jaws slightly, looking straight ahead.

“Raquel, I’m here,” he leans forward to say the words without letting water into his mouth. “You can talk to me.”

She drops her head suddenly, quickly takes a step forward and moves her hands, reaching around Sergio’s body. Her embrace feels surprisingly tight, breasts pressed into him, her cheek pushed against his chest, water now falling onto their heads. Sergio feels her touch move on his back, as if she tries to get a better grip.

After about a minute Raquel starts coughing and her body trembles. Sergio quickly pulls them both from under the water with an almost angry _hey – hey – hey_ , but Raquel ignores his frustration and doesn’t let go of him when he attempts to look at her face. Wet hair covers most of it.

When she stops coughing, she pulls him back under the water.

Sergio is too caught up in the moment to be able to process what’s happening. One thing he does know is that his body soon starts reacting in the most natural way, and that is when he tenses, trying very hard to control it. He curses his own mind for binging up all the times the two of them were in the shower, but his body takes agonizingly long to let go.

As soon as Raquel pulls away, he grabs a towel and wraps it painfully tight around his hips, and bites his lower lip, growling quietly.

“I’m safe,” he hears Raquel whisper. “I’m safe,” her voice trembles and she pulls closer to him again. He feels he’s suffocating, needing to breathe much deeper and faster, but unable to do so. “This is _you_ , I’m _safe_.”

“Please don’t push yourself, Raquel, this is enough.”

It takes a long time for them both to get out. Several times Sergio finds himself turn off the water when he thinks it’s scaring Raquel, but then she forces him to turn it back on. She almost hyperventilates, and then she gasps for air, and trembles, and every time it happens, Sergio wants to pull her out of there, still remembering her wild roar the first time he mentioned a shower just a few weeks ago. But she keeps pushing. And he keeps telling himself she _does_ know better.

When they finally step out of the bathroom, Sergio spots Mónica in the far corner of the room. She gestures at him, asking if everything is alright, and then walks out, leaving the two of them alone.

Raquel seems exhausted after the shower (and yet, Sergio cannot fight his own joy of how wonderfully fresh she smells… he keeps sniffing her hair quietly as he brushes and dries it).

“How are you feeling?” he inquires, putting some balm onto her face.

Raquel takes a moment to consider her answer, then slowly pronounces, “That was terrifying…”

Just as Sergio is about to compliment her for bravery, he realizes she’s not done. Raquel continues, “But needed.”

He watches her face carefully, kisses her forehead and brings a fresh set of pajamas (goodness, how he hates himself for only buying them and nothing else for her; it speaks volumes – he didn’t expect her to recover this fast, if at all, and it eats him alive).

“I fell in love with how brave and determined you were in your darkest moments, Raquel,” he speaks slowly as he helps her into her clean clothes (for once in a long time, she isn’t insisting on doing it herself – she’s tired and her hands are trembling after the enormous pressure she’s put on herself). “You’re incredible.”

She blinks at him, visibly wanting to respond, but not finding the right words.

Sergio sits beside Raquel and starts carefully massaging her shoulders – they’ve fallen into this small routine just recently, and Raquel doesn’t always let him do it _properly_ , but he tries his best. He’s careful, his touch gentle, but firm, and he knows it isn’t too pleasant for her, just like he hopes she truly understands (and not just says that she does) that he takes no pleasure in making her body ache. Raquel moans quietly as his hands move onto her neck, and she tilts her head.

When Sergio is about to finish, Mónica walks back into the bedroom, her pace quick but quiet.

“Professor, would you mind talking to Helsinki? There seems to be a bit of a situation,” she states, and Sergio kisses the top of Raquel’s head (who is too exhausted to question what’s going on), promising her to be back in a minute.

Of course, resolving a yet another issue does not take _just_ a minute. And the truth is, it’s not even Helsinki who has a problem, it’s Denver and Tokyo – Helsinki being the one who tries to reason with them both. Their argument is heated, but rather quiet.

“Professor, she wants to shoot a package if anything goes sideways!”

“A what?” Sergio asks, confused, and stares at Denver, trying to make sense of his words.

“Inspector Sierra. I say we shoot the bitch if she tries to fuck with us.”

“You heard Professor, we need her,” Helsinki cuts in with a voice one would use to talk to a three year old, and that pisses Tokyo off even further.

“He’s smart, he can come up with another plan.”

“All of you, stop it, _now_!” Sergio hisses, pushing up his glasses. “Tokyo, we don’t have time to figure out a different plan. Using Inspector is the wisest solution, so _please_ , bring her to the safe house alive. And _unharmed_ ,” he adds, waiving his index finger before his face.

He keeps it to himself how he’s not yet sure whether Alicia Sierra will actually make it out of that safe house alive, because while _Professor_ knows they need her, _Sergio_ wants to do all those horrible things they’ve done to Raquel over the past five years (and the more he thinks about it, the more eager he gets).

It is towards the sunset, when he watches Raquel’s tiny sleeping figure curled up on a sun bed in the terrace, that Sergio realizes it will be challenging to contain his anger when he meets face to face with the red haired Inspector.

And he isn’t wrong. Next evening, when he enters the safe house on the outskirts of Madrid and sees a female figure chained up to the ceiling with her feet about an inch above the floor, Sergio squeezes the gun in his hand till it hurts.

His mind still shaken by a nasty fight he’s had with Raquel just an hour ago, he slowly walks forward, trying to calm down; looks around, as if to make sure they are alone and no one will see his self control crumble, then pulls off the bag from the woman’s head. He can see her eyes widen in an instinctive fear before she regains composure.

“Wow, I figured you’d be bloodthirsty, but didn’t expect you to go as far as breaking me out of prison just to kill me,” she spats, curving her lips.

“I haven’t decided what I want to do to you, Inspector Sierra,” Sergio says dryly, concentrating on his breathing more than he concentrates on the woman before him.

“Not an Inspector,” she points out simply. “In case you haven’t noticed. And for the record, I didn’t lay a _finger_ on Raquel.”

“Why would I believe you?” he feels his self control, as weak as it was, cracking.

“I don’t know. Why would you?”

“You’re not in a position to ask questions, Inspector.”

“Okay, I won’t _ask_. But just so you know, Professor, I don’t want to _die_ here.”

“I’m afraid that’s not for you to decide.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me. Feed me. Never leave me (c), or the manual on how to turn any ficwriter into a happy and productive ficwriter (yeah, that's about that precious feedback of yours, guys, really). Feel free to comment in any language and please, don't be shy. Nothing you say can be more ridiculous than my writing process, trust me!


	10. Risks (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big warm thank you to abbygriffinm for being the test subject of the scenes I was conflicted about in this chapter.

The gun in Sergio’s hand feels heavy. It feels sticky from his sweat, to a point that Sergio worries it might slip out of his shaky grip. This is no way to handle a weapon, he knows, and squeezes the handle tighter, his fingers turning white from pressure.

He thought he'd had enough time to calm down. Getting from the apartment to a safe house took over an hour of city traffic and suburban roads, but it turns out he’s just as wrecked as he was when he left Raquel in her bedroom with a promise to return soon. Sergio wishes he didn’t have to lie to her where he was heading. But the past two days have been too much, and he couldn’t pick the words to tell Raquel he’d be meeting _the queen of all bitches._

“Have you actually used a gun before, Professor?” Sierra teases him, seeing how he struggles to keep the aim at her chest.

“You’d be surprised,” he hisses through gritted teeth, taking a step forward: that’s it, this is the closest he can come if he doesn’t want to be within her reach.

“You’re too pragmatic to go through all this trouble just to shoot me,” Alicia points out.

She’s not wrong. She’s just not right, either, because he knows he isn’t being rational right now. He’s driven; shaken and standing on the very edge, waiting to be either pulled back or pushed off.

“How is Raquel?” Alicia asks, and Sergio measures her with a look, noticing how all the mockery is gone from her voice. There’s no compassion either, though.

“She’s fine.”

That is as far from the truth as it gets. Raquel isn’t fine. She’s the opposite of fine. She threw his laptop at him – mind that she missed him by a few meters – when Sergio was about to leave _for a couple hours to run some errands._ He wonders what Raquel would have thrown at him had she known he was heading to see her former colleague whom he also freed from prison. Would Raquel still be furious? Or would she have another episode similar to yesterday? Sergio shivers.

“Really?” Alicia bursts out laughing, but the sound dies very fast, turning into a bitter sigh. Sergio steps from one foot to another, waving a gun in his hand. “Last time I saw her on the news she was anything _but_ fine.”

Sergio shakes his head to get rid of a vivid image of Raquel’s twisted face from today's morning.

As if their yesterday's challenge with the shower and the devastating consequences that followed weren't enough for Raquel, this morning he had to tell her Paula wouldn’t chat with her. He hates himself for it.

Sergio grimaces at the memory, Raquel’s broken howl still echoing in the back of his head.

The situation caught him off guard – had he a moment to regroup, he’d probably think of a better cover story than ‘ _your daughter is having a bad one and won’t talk to you today’_. Shit. For someone who pulled off the biggest robbery of the century he is a terrible liar and – as it turns out – a slow thinker when it comes to the people he loves. _Because he loves Paula like he would love his own daughter if he ever had one._

Sergio knows he couldn’t have told Raquel the truth, though, not after yesterday’s episode… Because _it_ would've certainly pushed her off the edge.

Paula running away from her bodyguards and grandmother is not something he saw coming. Sergio’s worried sick, because it’s been twelve hours since the girl disappeared and she hasn’t returned home (and none of the people hired to search for her have been able to so much as find a trace of Paula). This isn’t something he wishes Raquel to experience. This isn’t something she can handle after everything that’s happened…

“What happened after Suarez shot Raquel at that farm?” he asks coldly, ignoring Alicia’s snarky remark.

“You wanna know?” her eyebrows fly up and she scrunches her nose.

“Yes. The truth this time. We both know she didn’t die.”

“Well, she wasn’t shot either, if that’s what you’re asking. _Listen_ , my arms are getting numb, can we continue this after you get me a chair or something?”

“What happened after the farm, Inspector?!” Sergio explodes into her face, forgetting all about the safe distance, and Alicia licks her lips, eyeing the gun in his hand. She takes a few seconds before continuing, almost perfectly masking the discomfort inside her voice with disdain.

“Uhhh... She spent some time in the tent next to the Bank of Spain. We had a chat, she and I. A _friendly_ chat. I listed all the reasons why you were bad news for her. Do you want to hear it? No? Too bad… Perhaps I’ve pulled at her hair,” she mimics an attempt to remember, “Yes, once… And then you started stirring up water, that whole Anibal Cortés' business, and the next day Raquel was transferred to a secret facility. I don’t know where, because I got arrested that day, all thanks to your big mouth. Damn it, my arms really hurt. Is this necessary?” she pulls at the handcuffs, dangling her feet uncomfortably, and the chain makes echoing noise.

“Keep. Talking.”

“I heard there was an accident on the way. They wouldn’t tell me. And you know the rest. The funeral, the closed coffin and all. I figured she’d died in the car crash.”

“An accident,” he repeats with disbelief, staring at Alicia. "When?"

“Right about the time your gang left the Bank of Spain, give or take a couple days. A car crash.”

“You’re lying.”

“Seriously? You’re like a broken record, Professor,” Alicia rolls her eyes dramatically.

“What happened to her… it’s on you,” breathing fast, he waves a gun, staring at his own hand that holds the weapon. His mind is clouded with worry and fear. _And anger._ Professor inside his head lists all the reasons why they need Alicia alive, but this woman makes it hard. She pushes Sergio’s buttons (and if he weren’t so agitated he’d probably know why Alicia’s provoking him).

“If you hadn’t made so much noise, we’d keep Raquel in the tent for a few more days and I’d be the one interrogating her. I'd break her. _Without pain_ …” Alicia emphasizes the last words, and that pushes him off the edge.

Sergio’s body betrays him, sending a jolt of ache and regret and making his hands tremble as emotions hit him like an avalanche. He drops the gun, nervously catches it on the way down, and the trigger goes off under his finger.

The sound of a bullet isn’t deafening. The silence that comes afterwards – is.

He looks at his hand, trying to steady his breath.

Breathe. Breathe, Sergio, he tells himself. It resonates in the back of his head.

 _Breathe, breathe, Raquel_ , his memory throws at him immediately, and yesterday's events come back in blinding colors - Raquel convulsing on the floor a mere hour after she'd had a shower for the first time since her miraculous resurrection.

“Breathe, breathe, Raquel,” he pleads, kneeling beside her convulsing figure as she coughs violently, standing on her knees and elbows. He’s just walked into the bedroom after having a heated argument with Tokyo and Denver about inspector Sierra's safety – it takes him a moment to process what’s happening. “Breath through your nose,” he adds, taking off the bandages from her face, because she’s suffocating. “What happened?” Sergio glances at Mónica for a moment before returning his gaze to Raquel. “You’re safe, you’re here, just breathe…”

It isn’t helping. Raquel moans and roars, and then with each wave of coughing saliva and vomit start coming from her mouth, splashing all over the floor as she jerks her head. Sergio pulls back her hair and sits down onto floor next to her, aware of his pants getting wet with the smelly liquid that’s just come out of Raquel’s mouth.

“She was fine,” Mónica mumbles, handing him a tissue and stepping back. Sergio wipes Raquel’s chin, but a new wave of nausea comes right away, and Raquel pulls down, pressing her forehead to the floor before getting up again and spitting more of her stomach’s contents. She gasps for air and wheezes. “Raquel asked for water, and then this...”

This isn’t the first time she chokes while drinking. Everybody chokes… But this reaction is new, and Sergio blames their bold experiment with the shower earlier this day. He saw how it was pulling at her strings, he felt how desperately she was holding onto him in the process, he should’ve insisted on ending it sooner. He should’ve stayed with her afterwards instead of dealing with the gang’s disagreements (though he knows _that_ wasn’t an option, because Denver and Tokyo would most probably take their fight to a whole new level within minutes, and Helsinki wouldn't be able to contain it).

His hands caress the air around Raquel’s shoulders, but Sergio's too afraid to really touch her. He can pick up her cries between the coughing and spitting.

“Please, I don’t know, _no lo sé_ , please,” she mumbles towards the floor, her hands wander in the dirty liquid underneath and then fly up to cover her face.

Sergio’s chest feels tighter with every second, making it hard for him to breathe.

“Raquel, you are with me,” he begins and stops. He knows he should be calm and soothing, but he’s panicking, his voice gives away his own agitation and fear. He reaches to wipe Raquel’s face once again, and that’s when an even stronger wave comes. Except, her stomach is already empty, it’s just slime and her dentures falling onto the floor with a quiet splash. Raquel’s panting. Crying, swinging on her knees and elbows from side to side, trying to catch some air with her mouth.

Sergio pulls her shoulders towards him a little when her coughing subsides. She roars and breathes loudly.

“Please, no more,” Raquel cries, and he presses her side to his chest, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He feels his shirt getting wet too, the brown substance from Raquel’s face and hands now all over his own body.

“No more,” he repeats after Raquel. “No more, Raquel, it is over. That’s it, no more,” he whispers as she finally lowers her weight onto his lap. His legs hurt almost immediately, position awkwardly uncomfortable to hold someone else’s body, but Sergio remains motionless.

“I don’t know where it is,” she moans under her breath, and Sergio wonders if, perhaps, he didn’t hear her right. "I swear I don't know."

Raquel’s crying out loud, shuddering with violent sobs, and he moves his body along with hers from one side to another as if rocking a baby.

When Raquel becomes quieter, he asks Mónica to open the door to the terrace, and then lifts Raquel into his arms (almost feeling like he’ll drop her any moment because his feet are numb from sitting in a wrong position). He sits down onto the floor, Raquel on his lap, still sobbing and moaning, right in front of the open door – fresh wind is especially delicious compared to the dump smell of puke that has now filled the room. Sergio tries to relax as much as he can, massaging Raquel’s shoulders and sides.

He feels Raquel loosen up in his hands even more, until her head starts sliding down from his shoulder onto his chest.

“Raquel?” he probes carefully and touches her forehead with his lips. They taste salty from her sweat when he licks them the next moment. They taste bitter. “Stay with me, please. Stay with me, my love. I’m here, stay with me, okay?”

He fears whatever’s just hurt her might follow Raquel into her dream if she falls asleep right away. Raquel moos agreeingly, but her hands rest passively on her lap, and Sergio caresses her face, avoiding the scar on her cheek.

“You’re amazing, Raquel. I love you so much, stay with me just a little longer, okay?”

She moos again, and he lifts her hand, running his thumb across her palm. Quiet chatter comes into the room from the terrace, kids laughing in the street and then the traffic lights apparently turn green and cars start moving just outside the building. Sergio shifts on the floor to allow more wind onto Raquel’s wet face, and after a few more minutes she opens her eyes. The whites are reddened and eyelids tremble.

“Sergio,” she speaks quietly, and it’s just as hard to understand as anything else she says these days, but Sergio’s heart races in relief.

“There you are,” he smiles broadly, sniffing, because his nose suddenly feels stuffed. He wants to ask her how she is, he wants to ask her what is wrong, but instead he keeps rocking her carefully. He can pretty much guess what happened even without Raquel saying anything. Whatever was done to her, _water_ was a big part of it, Sergio swallows, kissing the top of Raquel’s head. This _is_ his fault.

“You’ve really strained yourself with that shower, Raquel… How about we take things slower from now on? Please? You don’t need to push yourself past the limits…”

He stops talking when he detects scolding notes in his tone. His blame is the last thing she needs right now.

Raquel sighs heavily.

“Not true,” she states plainly, sound more of a whistle coming through her lips without any teeth on its way, and Sergio glances back to where her dentures are (Mónica is pressing a palm to her mouth, apparently fighting an urge to throw up herself, but is currently cleaning up the floor).

“Okay, I won’t argue,” Sergio smiles at Raquel. He doesn’t feel amused, but she needs his ease. “Not because I agree, but because I trust your judgment…” (he wonders if he still does; after all, she simply chocked on water… had she not, the whole ordeal might have been avoided). His mind paints him pictures of what Raquel may have gone through all over again. Shit. He moans. “Okay, let’s get you out of here. I’m gonna,” he gets up with difficulty, pulling Raquel up in his arms, “carry you out onto the terrace.”

He omits the reasoning behind his decision. The smell inside the room is plain unbearable, and his legs hurt too much to sit like this any longer. Raquel doesn’t argue. He steps into the sun, squinting, and presses Raquel’s body tighter to his own as he heads towards the sun bed. As soon as he sits down with her on his lap, she moans quietly, burying her face against his neck. He swallows. Lost in a moment, Sergio has no idea how much time passes before he realizes Raquel is sound asleep in his arms (and his back is unforgivingly on fire).

Carefully lifting her from his lap, Sergio doesn’t breathe. He moves Raquel’s body onto the sunbed, hoping she’ll stay asleep on her own. The air is sweet and the rays of sunlight are warm. She shifts a little, bringing her hands closer to her face and pulling her knees towards her chest, but doesn’t wake up. Sergio towers above her, his own body trembles wildly. He wipes off the sweat on his forehead and turns around to see Mónica stand behind him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, extending a cup to him. He takes it gratefully and drinks what he thinks is water.

When the liquid hits his throat, he knows it was alcohol and shoots Mónica a questioning look. He’s not mad. If he’s honest, he really needed this, because somehow Raquel’s episodes are something he isn’t used to anymore. It’s shaken him to the core.

“Did she really just choke on water?” he asks, nodding at Raquel.

“I don’t think she even drank any. Her lips touched it and she went down the next moment… _What did they do to her_?” Mónica lowers her voice till it’s a barely audible whisper. Sergio shakes his head. He doesn’t know. “I’m so sorry… Go wash yourself, I’ll stay with her.”

He nods appreciatively and rushes to the shower (his legs feel like a cotton candy, so it takes some doing to make it all the way there). He violently scrubs his body and face and throws the clothes he had on into the trash. As soon as Raquel’s pajamas are off of her, Sergio knows those pieces of fabric will go straight into the garbage bin as well.

When Sergio comes back to the terrace, he freezes, staring at Raquel’s tiny figure curled up on a sun bed.

“I will never understand how someone can do this to a living being,” Mónica pulls him from his thoughts, and they exchange pained looks. “Don’t beat yourself up, Professor,” she taps his shoulder gently, and he cannot believe his own body, but it actually appreciates the gesture.

“I’m… I’m sorry you had to see this,” he sighs.

“It’s fine. She’s a friend.”

Sergio stays silent, watching Raquel, but nothing changes: her even breathing suggests she isn’t having nightmares.

“This is a nice place, Professor,” he suddenly hears Mónica address him, and he jerks in surprise. His voice expresses confusion.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry,” she smiles, “You cannot do anything for her right now. Might as well try to move your mind off of it?”

He nods.

“So, _I was saying_ , this is a nice place,” Mónica smiles. “The terrace, the apartment. Whose is it?”

“Well, mine…. Ours,” he clears his throat uncomfortably. “Raquel’s, actually. She just doesn’t know it.”

Mónica’s eyebrows fly up in surprise and with an awkward _oh_ she lowers her gaze. Sergio chuckles at how everything in his nowadays life goes back to Raquel in one way or another. “My mind wasn’t in the best place when I bought it,” he adds apologetically, and they stare at each other for several long moments. He can see Mónica regretting she’d brought it up.

His mind was in one of the worst places, actually, he admits. Because, instead of the thrill and happiness after achieving his life-long goal, pulling off the biggest robbery of Spanish history, he was feeling broken.

Shattered.

His brother, the only person Sergio had had in this world, was dead.

And the first woman he, Sergio Marquina, the guy who always believed relationships were overrated, felt something for, apparently wanted nothing to do with him.

He’d spent a few months thinking she might follow him to Palawan. And then, when that hope was lost, his guilt took over him. Sergio thought of nothing better but to set a trust fund for Raquel and her daughter… and then buy an expensive real estate in the centre of Madrid through it.

He isn’t particularly proud of himself when it comes to that sequence of events.

“This is a really expensive ‘I’m sorry I was an asshole’, Professor,” Mónica says slowly. There’s no judgment in her words, and he realizes how little she knows about the events of the robbery of the Royal Mint.

It makes sense, though, because she never knew their _plan_. She never knew how the Inspector in charge of the investigation was _supposed_ to be involved or how it all ended… and Sergio doubts Raquel spoke of how she came to be in a relationship with Professor when the gang reunited before the second heist.

“I ruined her life. This,” he gestures around, “wasn’t even enough.”

He left her brokenhearted, with charges pending against her and the whole world hating her. Buying her a piece of expensive real estate wasn’t going to begin to make up for any of it.

“How comes police didn’t come here looking, then?”

“It’s not registered under her name, and Raquel… Lisbon never knew. I never got brave enough to contact her after I’d left, and then she found me and none of it mattered.”

It does come handy to have this place now, though. A perfect hideout in the lion den, Sergio grins to himself, thinking back on how many times he wanted to get in touch with Raquel during the worst year of his life – the year he was all alone, unsure whether to wait for her or to try and heal his heartache (not that he would be able to).

“She’s strong,” Mónica half-smiles, nodding at Raquel’s sleeping figure.

“Yes,” Sergio’s face glows when he says it, “She’s a force of nature.”

He carefully walks closer and caresses Raquel’s hair when she shifts on the sun bed.

“I’m here, my love. Right here, you’re safe,” Sergio adds above Raquel’s ear, when her features become somewhat restless, and he can immediately see her body relax. She sleeps.

Sergio keeps staring at her, nodding slightly when Mónica excuses herself and heads back inside. When the sun starts setting down, Sergio brings a blanket and covers Raquel’s body gently. She sleeps for hours, and he doesn’t want to wake her. He knows tomorrow will be a complicated day for both of them.

Tomorrow he will have to leave Raquel alone for the first time since he got her out of the hospital. Because _tomorrow_ the gang will bring Alicia Sierra to the safe house, and Sergio must see her, _the person who might be responsible for what has happened to Raquel_.

He must _see_ her, _convince_ her to help them; and _not snap_ her neck or put a bullet between her eyes in the process…

...And now that he sees her, _Alicia Sierra_ , hanging on a chain right in front of him, her eyes wide because a bullet just flew an inch from her face, Sergio's mind races. He stares at her silently, holding onto a gun with a shaky hand, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Maybe you should put that down, Professor,” Alicia carefully suggests, eyeing the weapon. “Because killing me won’t help Raquel. It will only add up to your charges. And to _hers,_ once our glorious government gets tired of the whole _undercover hero_ crap.”

Sergio nods thoughtfully and walks to the nearest table to leave the gun there. Then he stands in front of Alicia, realizing this is exactly what she was trying to do: make him snap and regain composure. Raquel was right, this woman has no boundaries. Alicia's plan could have ended with a bullet in her head, but she still went through with it.

“Now that _that’s_ out of the way, let’s talk,” Alicia breathes out slowly.

“I need to know. Did you hurt Raquel?” Sergio’s voice is cold and – he hopes – collected.

“I didn’t need to,” she purses her lips. “If I had just _one_ more day, I would have cracked your girlfriend. Painlessly. I _know_ I would. And then imagine, Raquel would be safely in prison. All these years. Scheduled meals. Medical care. Fuck it, possibly even visits from her daughter.”

“You are very sure of yourself, Inspector.”

“Well, I know Raquel. I’ve known her longer than you have,” she pulls at the chain again.

Sergio sees how the skin is already coming off on her wrist. It hasn’t been that long since the gang had brought her here, but it doesn’t seem like Alicia Sierra is someone who gives up without a fight. Not that he didn’t know that already.

Taking a deep breath, he warns her not to try anything stupid and then lowers her feet onto the floor, allowing Alicia to sit down on a chair. She groans, resting her cuffed hands on her lap. Chain rings quietly as she massages her wrists uncomfortably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best thing you can do for a ficwriter whose story you love is tell what you thought and felt while \ after reading it. Don't be shy, you can't possibly say the wrong thing when you are talking about Serquel!
> 
> P.S. There's a Fifty Shades of Lies video, too.


	11. Kisses

Central Madrid is far from being asleep despite the late hour. Sergio slowly walks into the apartment building, glancing uncomfortably at the people in the street. He passes by the elevator, giving it a calculating look and catching his own unrecognizable reflection in the shiny surface, and then pulls the door leading to the staircase.

His hand squeezes the paper bags nervously. He doesn’t know what to expect when he gets back home. He’s been gone much longer than he hoped (but with all honesty – exactly as long as he knew he’d need with someone like Alicia Sierra), and now, as he step by step gets closer to the door of his ( _Raquel’s_ , he corrects himself for no reason) apartment, he tries to stall. Sergio doesn’t notice it, his mind racing between his worry for Raquel and the recollection of his messy conversation with the former inspector.

That meeting has definitely added up more questions than he saw coming. He sighs.

Glancing at the bags in his hand one last time, Sergio pulls the key from his pocket and walks down the corridor.

Has Raquel been okay the entire time he was away? It’s only been a few hours, but… has she? Sergio swallows. His exhausted mind sets him a safe heaven, draws a perfect scenario for the next twenty four hours in which nothing goes wrong. It gives comfort, even if not for long.

It is so perfect that Sergio knows this very moment it’s not meant to be; but he still enjoys having it inside his head.

Entering the apartment, he’ll find Raquel perfectly fine, in their bedroom, with Mónica by her side. It’s almost midnight, so as soon as Sergio takes a shower, they’ll go to sleep (mind that Raquel refused to be washed or even cleaned with a tissue this morning, Sergio hopes that Mónica has had more luck tonight, even though he accepts it’s unfair to expect that).

Raquel will sleep through the night peacefully, and when she wakes up, they’ll do their morning exercise (that she’s neglected these past few days since the gang has arrived), and then she’ll eat breakfast, and allow Sergio to clean her and give her the massage (he briefly wonders if Raquel can already feel the difference in her muscles or if he’s just imagining the progress). She will do better with the word game, too – unlike this morning, she’ll be able to go on longer than just two worlds (though, if he’s honest with himself, Sergio admits she just wasn’t in the mood for it and he shouldn’t have pushed).

He wonders if, maybe, finding words that start with ‘a’ is harder than finding words that start with ‘b’ or ‘c’. Should he try to make his moves end with ‘b’? Or is ‘n’ a safer bet?

_Negotiator, nanometer, nationality, nightmare…_

Raquel should be able to manage this, shouldn’t she? Is he being too optimistic? (He is, but not because he expects her to play with him; it’s because he realistically knows the first thing Raquel will do in the morning – if she waits that long – is ask about her daughter… and if Paula is still at large, there’s no telling what will happen).

With just a few more steps to the apartment door, Sergio’s mind clings to that image of a perfect plan for tomorrow. The one where Raquel’s daughter will be found before the morning comes, and Raquel will get better, _and all these messy bits of information he’s picked from Sierra will magically make sense_...

And then tomorrow, _his mind pulls him back into the perfect plan for the last time before, he knows, reality will crush it,_ when their morning routine with Raquel is done (and she doesn’t chop off his head for Paula’s situation or something else), Sergio will probe her about Alicia. He hopes the redhead hasn’t lied, and Raquel won’t have any hurting memories regarding her…

After that he’ll quickly go over the materials his tech team has forwarded to him in the past two days (when he was unexpectedly preoccupied with Raquel’s meltdowns) and then he’ll continue teaching the gang about their upcoming operation (because in two days latest, they’ll need to bring Alicia on board and start actual preparations).

The good news is, the former inspector doesn’t seem to mind. The bad news… He doesn’t know if he can trust her…

And also…

Also these bags in his hand. Sergio wonders what Raquel’s reaction is going to be, because this is the first time he’s bought her actual clothes, and he has no idea what she’d like to wear. (And the selling lady in that small shop on the outskirts of the city was, perhaps, too sweet and enthusiastic, trying to pick different kinds of matching outfits).

He quietly enters the apartment, locks the door. The lights are on, and there is a quiet chatter coming from the living room. It doesn’t surprise him, because it’s barely past midnight. By his estimation, some of the gang members have only just returned. They must be catching up over some more beers and chips that will pile up on the floor for Sergio to clean in the morning.

He sneaks into the kitchen and pulls a new laptop from one of the paper bags. Sergio stares at it, too tired to set it up, so instead, he gets a tablet he left in the cupboard, and checks up on updates from his people in the Philippines.

_Nothing._

Paula is still missing, and it's been almost twenty four hours since she ran away. He sighs heavily, lowering his head. It’s not the end of the world, but it is troubling. Sergio glances towards the corridor, pushes up his glasses and takes a few more minutes to send out several emails.

His meeting with Alicia Sierra, as challenging as it was, pushed him to start worrying about one more thing: CNI would _never_ just release someone from their secret prison. Something _must_ have happened for Raquel to get out.

Is it his own paranoia or the one of the former Inspector’s taking over, Sergio wonders. He stares at the tablet screen for a few more moments, almost forcing his mind to bring back the soothing perfect plan of how things are going to unfold.

When Sergio walks into the living room, the image of a perfect plan in his head holds on for less than a minute. His eyes move across the room tiredly, and he is about to greet everyone when he registers everything that is _wrong_ with the picture.

Sergio freezes with his mouth open.

“You wanna join the game?” Tokyo raises her head, glances at him and nods at the table in the middle. Sergio sees they are playing cards, but that’s not at all what makes him take off his glasses and rub his nose. He shakes his head and takes a few steps further, walking around the sofa, to get a better view of the two women sitting there; still unsure if he can trust his own eyes. It is Mónica’s light curly head on the right and… there’s only one woman with a gray hair who can be in this apartment, and Sergio cannot believe she is in the living room with the others.

Raquel sits close to Mónica, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, and holds a big pillow on her lap, pressing it to her belly. Her face is tense. She seems concentrated, but not frightened.

Mónica pulls a few cards and whispers something to Raquel’s ear, making her frown and then nod, after which Mónica puts a card onto the table and looks at Helsinki, smiling broadly. Sergio clears his throat, and Mónica articulates at him ‘ _she’s fine’,_ nodding at Raquel without making any sound.

He looks around in disbelief. There is no beer. And everyone is utterly quiet when they talk (and it does feel tense, he realizes, almost as if everyone in the room is afraid to breathe).

“It’s a fun game, but I keep losing to them,” Helsinki laughs, his voice suppressed, “Lisbon and Stockholm make a good team.”

Sergio comes closer to the sofa, reluctantly. The game goes on, even though now everyone is eyeing him, expecting him to say something.

“Okay, so there’s a two and a seven and a king,” he can hear Mónica whisper into Raquel’s ear. “And we have a nine and an A. And a seven,” Mónica goes on. Sergio curiously waits for Raquel’s reaction, gritting his teeth in anticipation. Mónica speaks again, “A seven, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Raquel moos after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh,” Tokyo reacts, grabbing all the cards with a sour face, and Sergio finally gets his voice back.

“R-Raquel? Hi.”

She jerks, sitting up as straight as she can manage, and her face lights up with a smile. The last time he saw her she threw his laptop at him (it didn’t reach, falling a couple meters short, but Sergio still remembers her angry hurt grimace; what he sees now is nothing like that). He raises his eyebrows, amused, and carefully sits beside Raquel, awkwardly greeting her once again. She stays still for a few moments, then pulls one hand away from the pillow and places it on his lap. Sergio puts his palm on top. He stares.

There’s a lip gloss on Raquel’s mouth. And she’s wearing… what he can assume to be Tokyo’s blouse and pants (and they seem a bit too big for Raquel, reminding Sergio once again just how fragile her body still is). Sergio frowns. He was only gone for six hours, how did all of _this_ happen? Finally, he lets go of the paper bags he was holding onto (but clings to the tablet), and rubs his nose. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. His confusion isn’t going anywhere.

His fingers caress Raquel’s hand on his lap, and she shivers invisibly (though he can tell Mónica feels it too, because she suddenly glances at them).

After a few minutes of awkward silence Sergio clears his throat and scans the room once again.

“Marseille and Denver are not back yet?” he asks, carefully wrapping his arm around Raquel’s lower back.

“No, not yet,” Tokyo responds to him, almost whispering. She keeps on sorting a pile of cards in her hand, but her eyes don’t move away from Sergio. “How did the… _errands_ go?”

“It was… Well,” he glances at Raquel who is now visibly paying attention to his words. “It was productive,” he mumbles, then purses his lips, picking up the paper bags with the clothes he bought for her, and adds with a hint of theatrical complaint in his voice but a serious face, “I now understand shopping is not a fun thing at all.”

Tokyo grins, nodding with understanding. Mónica giggles. Helsinki and Bogota exchange confused looks, and then Bogota growls when he’s the one picking up all the cards from the table. Tokyo shrugs at him, amused.

After a few more minutes Sergio can feel Raquel shift on the couch uncomfortably, and Mónica gives him a look, noticing it too. He helps Raquel onto her feet and leads her slowly to the bedroom. He can hear relieved sighs as they both leave the room.

Raquel’s breathing is uneven as they walk. Sergio closes the bedroom door behind them, moving to stand in front of her. He rests his hands on Raquel’s shoulders, then moves his palms up and down, massaging her, because he can see how tensed she is, _this_ close to shaking.

“It will be alright,” he mumbles, “just stay with me, Raquel.”

She nods, burying her face against his chest, but she doesn’t cry. Her breathing accelerates, her hands rest by her sides. When she pulls away, there’s a stain on Sergio’s shirt where Raquel’s face was pressed – and it’s not just a lip gloss. He can spot some powder and some cheek color as well. He rubs his eyebrow, thinking.

“I’m not well,” Raquel manages with visible difficulty, grimacing uncomfortably, and Sergio’s heart skips a beat. “I’m sorry I’m not,” she adds with tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“Where is this coming from, Raquel?” concerned, he cups her face and carefully lifts it to look at her.

“I’m a burden…”

Sergio sighs, displeased and pained. He’s hoped Raquel wouldn’t get these thoughts so soon.

“That’s temporary,” he states carefully, uncertain what brought this up in the first place. “You only need help. We all do sometimes… Remember how I had that nasty food poisoning from the itchy fruit? God, the aftermath allergy was so bad I spent days in the bed and you took care of me… Or when I fell off a table and broke my arm? In our house in Palawan… The most ridiculous way to ever get injured is to try fixing a lamp and just fall off the damn table,” he forces himself to laugh, hoping she’ll ease a little, but Raquel stays stiff. “You kept saying I shouldn’t have put a chair on top of the table, but you also spoon fed me for weeks, Raquel.”

He omits the part where Paula tried spoon feeding him, too, thinking it was a fun game, and just kept pretending the spoon was a plane landing in Sergio’s mouth.

Raquel breathes out sharply through her nose and smiles, her lower lip wobbles.

“You’re… you…” she manages before a sob catches her breath, and she instinctively covers her mouth with a hand. Sergio tries to pull her into his embrace, but she resists, and he stands there, confusion taking over. She keeps on saying something, but it’s inaudible.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, but doesn’t touch her. “I love you.”

“You pity me,” she hisses, her words unexpectedly clear (perhaps because Sergio sees them coming a mile away).

“No,” he states firmly, then adds, “You do deserve compassion, yes, but that’s not at all what I feel. My life wasn’t a real life when I thought you were gone. You _are_ what makes me want… _everything_. I love you, Raquel.”

She pulls her hand away from her mouth, and Sergio traces her upper lip with his thumb tenderly (the lip gloss feeling sticky on his skin). There is a tiny white scar right under her nose, and an even tinier one crossing it in the middle. He leans in and freezes, less than an inch between their faces, feeling Raquel’s uneven breathing on his chin.

Raquel inhales and exhales slowly, keeping her eyes pointed straight ahead. Cautiously, he places a soft kiss on her forehead, waiting to see Raquel’s reaction; then moves to her eyebrow, down onto her nose, and rests his mouth on her upper lip. He can feel Raquel gasp for air and flinch at the contact, but she doesn’t pull away. She remains motionless while he carefully bites her upper lip with his own lips. Just a little. Barely so, but Raquel shuts her eyes tight, moving her hands to the back of Sergio’s neck.

A moment later she sways, losing her balance, and Sergio instinctively catches her by her sides. Raquel seems absent, lost in her thoughts.

“What happened while I was gone?” Sergio inquires, rushing to pull her back into reality before she hides too deep, and lets Raquel lower her face and bump her forehead into his chest.

He knows this question calls for too big of an answer and bites his tongue, trying to rephrase before Raquel snaps at him.

“Nothing,” she breathes out into his shirt, her voice dull.

“Did Stockholm pull you into the living room?”

“No.”

“Did Tokyo?”

She’s silent, confused. The way he sees it, it was Raquel who pushed to go as soon as he left the building. She gradually proceeded from interacting with just Mónica and Tokyo (who clearly tried their best at entertaining her) and didn’t realize it was too much until, well, until it _was_ too much. He does admire the way the gang handled it, that is something he didn’t quite expect. Sergio is almost certain this is coming to bite her.

“I’m not angry, Raquel,” he grimaces, realizing how sharp his voice sounds. He’s worried, sick worried about her, but who’s to say she isn’t feeling scolded. He slowly walks her further into the bedroom, caressing the small of her back. “Do you want to eat or drink before we go to bed?”

She lifts her arm and rubs the inside of her elbow against her forehead.

“I don’t…” she pauses, frowning. “Not tired.”

“You don’t want to sleep?” Sergio’s surprised. He, on the other hand, is exhausted. Raquel shakes her head in response. “Alright,” Sergio forces a weak smile into his voice (and it even appears on his face, he’s sure), “I bought something for you. It’s… It’s some clothes. I figured you’d feel more comfortable if you didn’t spend all days wearing pajamas. Do you want to try some on?”

He sees her body jerk at a thought of having to change clothes, and suddenly realizes what it is she’s really doing. She _is_ tired. She _wants_ to sleep. She’s just waiting for the morning in Palawan, so she can wish a good morning to her daughter before going to sleep. _Fuck_. He pushes down his worry about Paula’s whereabouts. One problem at a time.

_One problem at a time._

He cannot allow Raquel to have another outburst right now. She needs sleep. It’s bad enough she broke down when she couldn’t talk to Paula this morning. A second blow in just one day will be too much.

“How about we just lie down and talk?” he suggests softly and Raquel frowns, making Sergio wonder if she sees right through him and his poor attempt at tricking her into sleeping.

“Uh-huh,” she moos agreeingly after a few seconds and Sergio sighs with relief. He skips everything that they have to do every evening, except giving Raquel her medications, and hurries to help her into the bed.

Within mere minutes after their heads touch a pillow, he can tell Raquel is fast asleep. He, on the other hand, finds himself restless. Thoughtful. His mind jumps between his worry for Paula (though it isn’t the first time she disappears and he knows he shouldn’t panic too much, because she will come back soon, but her timing is horrible, and he wonders if she really doesn’t understand what it means for Raquel), his curiosity about tonight’s events inside the apartment, attempts to understand why Marseille and Denver aren’t back yet and… And then there’s Alicia Sierra.

Sergio closes his eyes, willing himself to sleep, but the more he tries, the more his mind pulls him back. His conversation with Alicia was long and rocky, but he did his best to check if she at all might have been involved in what Raquel went through.

_“So, Inspector, humor me. Hypothetically. If you actually were interrogating Lisbon…”_

_“Raquel... You and your names; aren’t you too old for these games, Professor?”_

_“Lisbon. What would you do?”_

_“Talk.”_

_“And if that didn’t help?”_

_“Uh, here we go again. Nothing. Just talk.”_

_“Don’t lie to me please.”_

_“I don’t need to, Professor.”_

_“Okay. Let’s say it isn’t about Lisbon.”_

_“Raquel.”_

_“Lisbon. Let’s say someone else. And that someone now cannot lie on their back. What would you say has happened?”_

_“Uhhh, fine. I can give a handful of things that happen to someone if there is a green light. And if that someone is a woman, the list gets longer. But really, anything goes. As long as they’re bound on a surface with their back pinned to it. Water boarding, electrocution… Even burying alive, because that coffin is too small to turn around in it, you know, so they just keep lying on the back, shoulder blades digging into the wood as they scratch their nails off and suffocate... you do it enough times, and you have yourself a Pavlov's dog.”_

_"You didn't have to do this."_

_"Do what?"_

_"Describe."_

_"What, too graphic for you?"_

Sergio gasps, steeling himself on the bed and watching Raquel’s sleeping features, but Sierra’s voice in his head goes on.

_“It’s not like a piña colada and a foot massage did that to Raquel. I saw her on the news, remember? Only incompetent morons could’ve concluded she had to be tortured. They had no clue what the fuck they were doing, uh, so blatantly unprofessional… Like I said, I’d not need to. Raquel would talk. She’s reasonable.”_

Sergio shivers at a thought. It’s true. He wouldn’t be able to pull off his greatest heist if Raquel wasn’t reasonable; if she was unable to see his ideas weren’t wrong. If she didn’t accept that _Professor wasn’t a bad guy._

He wishes Raquel had just told them what they wanted to know and spared herself. Sergio caresses her hair weightlessly and closes his eyes, hoping to fall asleep. _Why didn’t she, oh, why didn’t she…_

But then.

Because they’d probably kill her off the moment she gave them what they wanted. And then they’d torture _him_ , too.

Sergio sighs and opens his eyes, annoyed. He should sleep. Instead, he stares at the dark ceiling, listening to Raquel’s breathing beside him. When he closes his eyes, hoping the sleep will come, she suddenly pulls away from his body, then shifts, turns around and buries her face against his neck, her lips pressed against his skin. Raquel rests her hand on his chest, her leg on top of his. Sergio winces, turning onto his back.

This is the first time in weeks Raquel has changed the position she sleeps in.

He can sense something is coming, and it only adds to Sergio’s anxiety. His heart pounds in his ears as Raquel’s hand starts wandering across his chest. He listens closely to spot any change in her breathing, any sound she might let out to indicate she’s in distress. His body is tensed, ready to jump up at any moment.

But as minutes pass, nothing happens. Raquel’s palm is still drawing circles on his chest and her breathing is hot on his neck, but nothing happens. Sergio blinks a few times, then shuts his eyes.

When he sleeps, his dreams are chaotic. He sees Palawan, El Salvador, and Marivi is in his dream, offering him a burning hot tea, and then there’s Sierra and colonel Tamayo, and Paula and even Raquel’s ex husband… The only person who isn’t there is Raquel herself. And then there is a car crash appearing from nowhere, and Sergio wakes up, startled by the loud noise. He blinks away the dream and looks around. It was his key chain, it slipped out of his pocket and fell onto the floor.

 _“A car crash, yes, Professor. When they were taking your girlfriend to a secret prison,”_ Sierra’s voice rings in his ears like a broken record.

_“Why would they bother faking Lisbon’s death in a car crash if she was already announced dead in a shootout?”_

_“How would I know? Maybe they lied so I'd not blow a whistle that she was alive and detained illegally?” the redhead shrugs, lifts her cuffed hands and opens her eyes as wide as it’s possible. “I thought it was for real. Stupid, huh? All the hassle to catch Raquel. Fake her death, send Suarez off, fly her out of Spain… Just to get her killed in a car crash. Can you imagine?” Sierra purses her lips and shakes her head._

_“Where was that?”_

_“No idea, Professor,” she spats, “had too much on my plate being prosecuted, you know.”_

That bothers him. It isn’t crucial, it doesn’t change much, but it lingers in Sergio’s head, little by little driving him crazy. Not the ‘where’, but the ‘why’.

There either _was_ a real car crash in which Raquel did _not_ die (but was announced dead), or there _wasn’t_. And in this case either _someone_ deliberately mislead inspector Sierra (who had been arrested by that time) or _she_ is misleading Sergio right now.

The latter makes no sense. (Because he’s calculated every possibility, and he’s certain Sierra’s got nothing to win out of being his enemy right now)…

Lying on the bed, Sergio rubs his temple. He feels boxing or at least pacing the room would help, but he can’t get up, pinned to the mattress by Raquel’s body… He groans, annoyed, reaching for his vibrating tablet beside the bed and puts on his glasses…

 _You were right. Someone saw a woman thrown out of a car near the Spanish Embassy in Tripoli on Sept, 21st_ , the message reads.

Sergio is too tired to process this properly. He reads the message again. That was what, six weeks ago, right? Three… no, four days before police announced Raquel’s arrest and flew her into Spain. Sergio rubs his nose, repeating it with his lips.

A woman was thrown out of a car next to the Spanish embassy. In Libya. Four days before Raquel was brought back to Spain and placed in a hospital. Can this be a coincidence?

 _Is there footage?_ He types back. He knows there isn’t, but the next moment there are two blurry pictures on his screen. The resolution is too low to see woman’s face or the car plate number, but Sergio gasps. She’s naked and her hair is gray. Instinctively, he caresses Raquel’s shoulder with his free hand and tilts his head to place a soft kiss on her temple.

And then.

 _Shit_. Sergio quickly moves his hand to put it on top of Raquel’s, pressing it down, because he feels her touch going dangerously low, too close to the waistband of his pants. She doesn’t wake up, only mumbles something against his neck.

He keeps staring at the two blurry pictures someone must’ve snapped with a phone from a distance. Can this actually be Raquel? It must be, but then... What the fuck does any of it mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments make me really happy, but you already know that, right?  
> My DMs on twitter are open: https://twitter.com/MariaPurt


	12. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the very few who made it all the way here, thank you so much!!! Having such supportive readers has been a blast 🙏😍

Sergio stays wide awake until he can clearly see the sun rising outside the windows. And then exhaustion takes over him and he falls asleep (only to jump up on the bed – it feels like – the next moment, when Raquel suddenly wakes up, gasping for air). He steadies himself, caressing her shoulders.

“I don’t kno-w-w, I don’t…” she cries.

“What is it, Raquel?” he whispers, knowing her answer in advance.

“I… I… I’m sor-ry. I don’t know, I’m…” she’s panting and Sergio pulls her closer in his embrace, holds her until her body starts to relax.

“You’re here. You’re safe, Raquel.”

She swallows hard, swinging her body from side to side for several minutes straight, and then suddenly asks quietly, caution in her voice, “Whe-re… is here?”

Sergio coughs.

“You’re safe,” he repeats, trying to figure out what is going on inside her head.

This is new, so very new and simple, but he’s taken aback, suddenly not having a quick and easy answer. It takes him a few seconds to think it through. How does he respond without scaring or confusing her? She’s not in prison anymore (though he hopes she’s figured that out by now, even if she cannot see anything… then again, he wonders how much of a difference she can actually tell from where she was before), she isn’t in Africa either (if that is where she was). She is in Madrid, but no longer in the police custody or a hospital… She isn’t home though, because Sergio somehow thinks she would expect ‘home’ to be a familiar place (and he worries her mind might play a trick and send her back to wherever Raquel used to live with her shit of a husband). Reluctantly, he moves to get off the bed, and then slightly pulls her with him, whispering, “Come, I’ll show.”

She’s hesitant, and she pulls back at first, but as Sergio just stands there, with her hands pressed to his body, Raquel slowly rises onto her feet. He walks her towards the glass door leading to the terrace, then stops, pressing his lips together nervously. His mind screams this is a bad idea, because Raquel has just had a nightmare and she is still sweating and her body is still stiff as if she’s holding a huge rock on her shoulders.

“What?” she inquires, sensing his worry.

“I promise you, you’re safe, Raquel. Absolutely safe. Do you trust me?” he murmurs, and she immediately tenses even more. Damn his sleepy exhausted mind, he just pushes the door open, letting the morning outdoors chatter reach Raquel’s ears.

She’s been to the terrace several times, and Sergio knows this sound puts her at ease. It does this trick now as well, although he can sense something new in Raquel’s body language. They walk onto the terrace, and he begins explaining to her all the smallest noises coming from the street. He knows them all by heart, having spent too many hours just sitting here, hiding. There comes the garbage truck, and then the grocery store delivery, and the alarm goes off around the corner in a bakery where the old guy owning the place seems to always forget his code. And there’s the street light that sometimes doesn’t work, and today seems to be the day, because there’s a policeman managing the car flow (and whistling and yelling at someone who evidently didn’t wait for his sign to start moving). And there’s a pet shop just downstairs with really talkative parrots, and… Sergio cuts his sentence short, seeing how Raquel’s face changes. She smiles, her eyes blinking rapidly, her cheeks blush.

“I kno-w-w this pla-a-ce,” she states slowly, and pauses before adding the actual name of the street. Sergio stands there, frozen, with his eyes wide.

She isn’t wrong. Sergio stops himself short of clapping his hands excitedly.

‘We’re in a private apartment on the top floor, across the street from the pet store,’ he concludes. Raquel presses her palms together. “Do you know who I am?” he adds softly.

“Uh-huh,” she moos, visibly lost in the moment.

“Can you tell me?” he pushes, and Raquel presses her hand to his lips, follows his jaw line, touches his ear.

“Pro-fes-sor,” she states, one syllable after the other.

Sergio freezes briefly, confusion taking over him before he realizes what it _must_ mean. Raquel's mind is finally processing not only who he is to her (the safety that Raquel has mentioned before), but their whole history together. And she doesn't flynch at that, he notes. 

Unfortunately, that is where his luck ends, because in just a few minutes Raquel asks him about her daughter, and he presses his lips together, turning on his computer to make a call. Sergio soon learns the girl hasn’t been found yet, this marking thirty hours since her disappearance. He sighs, glancing at Raquel who is still smiling. What will the truth do her right now?

“I have…” he trailes off, looking at her face. She is soft, relaxed in a way he hasn’t seen her in a long time. “There’s… I,” he knows he cannot do this, “It seems Paula is busy with a tutor,” he pushes, knowing immediately how this is going to explode into his face.

Raquel stays silent, but he can see the vein on her forehead pulsate. He gestures with his hands nervously. No-no-no, please, not now, not today, he hasn’t slept at night, and there is so much on his agenda.

“Wha-t-t is wrong?” Raquel frowns, her voice calmer than Sergio expected.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t,” she lifts her arm in front of her.

He knows he’d be much better at lying to her if he didn’t constantly feel torn between knowing it’s the right thing to do and hating himself for it. Sergio sees how Raquel’s hand makes its way to the nightstand beside the bed and touches a glass with water. She’s going to push it off to show she’s unhappy.

“Paula and I had a fight,” he sighs, making his voice sound apologetic. Like a kid who’s been caught stealing candy. “She’s…”

“Liar!” she raises her voice, and Sergio stares at her. He quickly takes the glass with water away from her.

“Please, Raquel,” he begs. Please, don’t be stubborn. Please, don’t push it. Please, believe the white lie I’m telling. Please, spare yourself…

“Stop it. You are hur-ting me, Ser-gi-o-o,” she slowly pronounces, articulating vividly with her trembling lips. Her breaths are deep and hectic. “My dau-ugh-ter. Truth. Ple-a-se!”

_Fuck it._

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kept this from you, it’s… I just didn’t want you to worry. They…” he sighs. “The Interpol’s found our house in Palawan, and my team is relocating Marivi and Paula to a more secure place,” it isn’t a complete lie, their house in Palawan has really been found, but it happened over two weeks ago, and the family had been safely relocated long before that. Sergio does occasionally wonder which of his personal possessions might have been left behind and now placed in an evidence room somewhere. Sergio watches Raquel’s face to see with a relief that she seems to believe him. “There’s no way to get in touch with them until they make it to a new location… I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have,” he adds much calmer. This should buy him a couple days at least. He hopes not to need that long.

Sergio blows out his cheeks silently. She’s bought it.

He might regret this move later, he knows.

Tiredly, he sighs and heads to make some breakfast and get a ton of coffee (he’s going to need a lot of it to get through the day).

As if Sergio hasn’t had enough, when he enters the kitchen, he catches Mónica and Denver making out. Her naked butt on the kitchen counter, Mónica jumps down the moment she sees Sergio, and Denver groans, confused, then turns his head to see Sergio’s stunned face and giggles awkwardly.

Sergio stares at the floor, mumbling apologies (even though he feels more like yelling right now), and turns around, letting them get dressed.

“We haven’t seen each other for three years, Professor, this feels nice,” Denver gives, pulling up the zipper on his pants, as if that is a valid excuse to have sex on the kitchen counter.

Sergio rolls his eyes.

“I… I see,” he nods.

“…And a half,” Mónica corrects, and just as Sergio turns around again, he sees them kiss, clearly forgetting he’s still standing two meters away.

As shitty as the day begins, though, it goes surprisingly well. Not the ideal version from Sergio’s plan, but he does feel rather relaxed towards the lunch time. Having spent some time with the gang, going over the details of the operation that Alicia wouldn’t need to know (she would, Sergio admits, but he’d rather have her in the dark on these), he comes back to the bedroom in the afternoon, letting Mónica go back to her lover.

He glances at the book Mónica’s been reading to Raquel, expecting to see a yet another love novel. He involuntarily coughs when he sees the cover and then stares at Raquel, his eyes wide. It’s not romance, and it’s not even fiction.

“Criminology?” he murmurs, unable to hide his shock. Raquel nods, without turning her face towards him (which she usually does when he speaks, and this is the sign she isn’t happy about something). Sergio thinks. Paula, yes, and him lying about her yesterday could be it. He waits, but Raquel doesn’t move. “Are you… Are you mad at me, Raquel?”

She nods, her face expressionless.

His mind racing, he wonders briefly how much she actually understood in that book Mónica apparently read to her today.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of missing something important.

“Fuck it.”

“Sorry?” at first Sergio thinks he misheard, then his brain processes it, and he’s sure he heard exactly what Raquel said, because she’s still keeping her face away from him (if anything, she’s just turned it even further from where he’d be able to see it). “Raquel, I apologized. I really shouldn’t have…”

“No. Stop.”

This is getting frustrating.

“Raquel, I really…”

“Jason,” she states with some difficulty, but Sergio is too stunned to register that difficulty. All he hears right after that is ringing in his ears.

Plan Jason. _His_ plan. The plan that includes using stolen gold to gain their freedom; because what other name could it have? Jason and all the impossible things he did to get the golden fleece… The plan Sergio has been teaching to the gang on the other side of the apartment for the past several days…

“Have you been listening?”

Raquel nods.

So her mind has processed more than just their personal history, Sergio notes.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

That is a dumb question, and he knows it. There are countless explanations ‘why’. Because she was waiting for him to tell her. Because she couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing until today. Because she feared he’d just get better at hiding things from her… Somehow, in all of these Sergio feels like a moron. He hopes that Raquel will give him a better option, but she remains quiet.

Problem is, he never intended to hide things from her, and he somehow assumed she herself just wasn’t ready for it (and knew and accepted it). Seeing how upset she is now, he regrets not asking her directly (though he’s sure that up until yesterday she would have preferred to stay away from it).

“Raquel,” he sighs. She’s not ready to be a part of the plan or even of its discussion. “You flinch every time I turn on the water in the bathroom, you…”

That was a bad move. He knows it that very moment, but it’s too late, because she goes nuclear within moments, her speech turning into a high pitch noise. When she finally calms down enough to hear him, they spend over an hour arguing (and it takes a lot of patience to argue with someone who can only form simple sentences and even that - with an effort).

Thinking back, he is almost certain knows what triggered her to get so frustrated. He used her _name_ , her real name while explaining some of the details of the plan to the gang. It _must_ be it, because all the other days they were studying he never even mentioned her during lessons.

That night he spends a lot of time chatting with the doctor who initially checked her five weeks ago. As much as the guy is excited about her progress (and Sergio does his best to keep him updated when he has time to do so), the doctor also cautions not to get too comfortable. This night, however, he also insists – raises his voice for the first time since Sergio first met him – that Raquel should be given _proper_ medications.

It doesn’t take long to get a fake prescription, and then Mónica quickly picks up the pills from a pharmacy a few blocks away (not the nearest one, of course, even though Sergio is pretty certain no one would ever be able to recognize her with all the masquerade).

Late at night, as he gives Raquel her usual painkillers, he puts the extra pill onto her palm and explains what it is. She frowns and stays motionless until Sergio finally realizes he should just tell her the name of the drug. She grimaces, but after a few more seconds puts it into her mouth and swallows it (refusing water once again, which drives both Mónica and Sergio insane, because at this point the only liquid Raquel gets is coming from the soups and smoothies).

“You’ll have to drink water at some point,” he states blankly. He’s too tired, even though he knows they’ll have to add an IV with liquid soon if Raquel doesn’t change her mind.

Exhausted, she doesn’t put up a fight in response.

She sleeps through the night, and so does he, feeling blessed to finally get proper rest. In the morning, when Sergio wakes up, he watches her sleeping features, then carefully sneaks out of the bed (knowing she’ll wake up almost immediately) and heads to the bathroom.

Nothing happens.

When he comes back to the bed, she’s still asleep. Her temples are wet with tears. He pats her on a shoulder tenderly, wanting to wake her up, but Raquel doesn’t react. He pulls her body closer, and she rolls onto her back, facing the ceiling with closed eyes. It takes several more hours for Sergio to figure out what’s wrong.

The dosage.

He’s given her a standard dosage of the drug for an adult person, but her body weight is nowhere near a _standard_ _adult_ yet. Her appetite has gotten much better over the weeks, and vitamins and nutritious IVs are certainly helping, but it’s going to take months if not years before her body regains its muscle weight.

He sits by the bed, watching Raquel’s pained face (she’s definitely having a nightmare, but with the damn pill he cannot wake her up), and holds her hand, caressing it with his fingers. It’s his fault, he’s the one who is supposed to think before doing things, how did he miss something this important (blame it on exhaustion, his mind retorts, remembering how the doctor specifically pointed out that the dosage would have to be adjusted). Sergio sits by her side, then forces himself to move to the computer.

It’s pointless to feel sorry, when there are actual things he can do. He uses the time to go through all the files his tech team has forwarded over the past few days. There are some things he’s going to use, and he takes note of them, but there’s also a lot of junk, even though the IT guys are filtering stuff before sending it to him… It’s hard to concentrate with Raquel constantly moaning in her sleep, and he rushes back to her as soon as he’s done.

When she finally wakes up, though, she seems unusually quiet. She’s there, Sergio can see that she’s there, but she’s also somewhere else. She doesn’t speak the entire day, and she doesn’t participate in anything she used to do on her own. Sergio spoon feeds her, changes her clothes, sits her onto a toilet and pulls her back up.

The good news is, she also – finally – drinks water when Sergio brings a cup to her lips.

He sees her reacting to every step of the way, but when he asks her something or simply talks to her, there is no response. He forces himself not to freak out. This is a somewhat natural reaction of one’s body and mind when the medication is used for the first time, so he adjusts the dosage the next night, and while Raquel has no problem waking up in the morning, she’s still a calm shadow of herself throughout the day.

Reluctantly, Sergio turns on a Van Morrison song at some point. He watches Raquel close her eyes and stay like that till the song is over, but that’s all the reaction he gets.

When the third night comes, Sergio only gives her painkillers, not _the other_ meds. She becomes more lucid towards the noon of the next day, and he reluctantly probes her about Alicia (because with all the news he’s getting from the tapped gadgets of the police and CNI, time is of the essence).

“Alicia…” Raquel slowly repeats after Sergio.

“Do you remember her?”

“Of course,” she responds drily.

“What is the last thing you remember about her, Raquel?”

He takes a deep breath and freezes, watching Raquel dive into her memories. She’s silent much longer than he’s comfortable with, but he waits.

“ _Life grew in me. Death grew in him.”_

Sergio frowns, unable to understand what it means. He hopes she’ll continue, but Raquel just rubs her eyes with a palm. He carefully puts his hand onto her lap.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t remember,” she moans, still tense. The vein on her forehead pulsates violently.

“Did she hurt you, Raquel?” This is not a question he should be asking, because she might as well just bring whoever did hurt her into the equation. He rushes to rephrase, “Did Alicia…”  
  
“ _I_ hurt her,” Raquel interrupts him, nodding slowly.

He tries to ask her more, but everything he gets from her makes no sense. Alicia’s name, though, doesn’t seem to knock Raquel off her feet, and so Sergio proceeds with his plan. Early next morning, when Sergio knows for sure all the neighbors are still asleep, the former inspector, blindfolded and handcuffed as a safety precaution, is walked through the door into the apartment.

To Sergio’s relief, Alicia doesn’t make a scene when she sees Raquel for the first time. She just glances at her – apparently unaware that Raquel cannot see her – and quickly looks away. Helsinki shifts his weight from one foot to another, but his grip on Alicia’s shoulder doesn’t get any lighter.

“It was a boy,” Alicia states simply, when it becomes obvious Raquel won’t be the first to talk.

“Was?” Raquel frowns.

“A healthy one. Really big, too.”

“Congra… Cong… Congratulations,” Raquel manages with a difficulty, and Alicia wrinkles her nose, studying Sergio who stands right by Raquel’s side.

“They took him,” she says, taking one step closer, and Helsinki tenses visibly. “He’s five now,” former inspector adds calmly. “Bet my late husband would be thrilled about it,” she rolls her eyes, mimicking theatrical excitement, but the tension of the situation doesn’t go away.

“I’m sorry,” Raquel whispers, and their conversation goes on for a bit longer, but then to Sergio’s surprise Raquel doesn’t insist on staying in the room when they start discussing the plan.

He helps her into the bedroom and, despite his better judgment, agrees to leave her alone in there. They argue about it at first, but then Sergio realizes she wants to listen to the Van Morrison songs he’s turned on for her the other day. He is somewhat upset he hasn't thought of them much earlier. He watches Raquel's face relax with the first sounds, and she closes her eyes, hugging herself.

The next day, however, when he’s about to leave Raquel with Mónica and head to the gang, she asks to join him. Reluctantly, he agrees (they’ll mostly be going through harmless things today, those things shouldn’t trigger her, he thinks to himself).

“We have a big advantage. Nobody knows we are all in Spain. They think we are all hiding in the third world countries, enjoying coconuts and beaches.”

“I liked my snow,” Bogota grins, and Sergio nods in return, ignoring the fact he has no idea where Bogota spent the last five years. Russia? Norway? Alaska? Patagonia?

“So we will catch them all with their pants down…” Tokyo giggles, but becomes serious the moment her eyes meet with Alicia’s.

Sergio glances at Raquel every few minutes while he talks. This isn’t ideal, he gets distracted and repeats himself over and over again, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Not right now anyways. He hopes Raquel will soon realize this is not helping her at all…

“Well, there goes your element of surprise,” Alicia suddenly chuckles, and Sergio jerks with surprise, eyeing her. She nods to the television. Did someone leave it on despite Sergio’s protests? The sound is muted, but when Sergio follows Alicia’s gaze, he doesn’t need to hear what they’re saying.

“Shit,” Tokyo drops down onto the sofa, still staring at the screen. “Isn’t that..?” she doesn’t finish, her eyes pointed at Raquel.

The rest of the gang just looks at each other, confusion on their faces.

“What… What is it?” Raquel tenses and waves her hand in front of her, trying to get someone’s attention, because her voice sounds rather quiet.

Annoyed that he doesn’t understand what is happening, Denver turns on the sound.

“…We will follow the story as it unveils. After almost eight years of captivity Paula Vicuna, the daughter of Inspector Raquel Murillo who’s been kidnapped just over a month ago from a hospital here in Madrid, has returned to Spain today. She is in the police custody, awaiting to meet her father.”

“Is this part of your plan?” Mónica inquires carefully, addressing Sergio, and moves closer to Raquel who visibly barely holds herself together.

“Look at his face,” Alicia cuts in, grinning. “Does _that_ look like it’s his plan? You’re screwed, all of you. If Paulita came to Spain… Uhh, police, CNI and anybody with at least a bit of brain will know you didn’t leave the country,” she throws at Sergio and goes to cross her arms on her chest, but handcuffs cut the gesture short. Alicia lets out an annoyed breath. “They’ll find you.”

“They don’t know that we are all here. Only can assume Raquel and I stayed…”

“You!” he isn’t sure if it is _you_ Raquel breathes out loudly, because it sounds messy.

The news finally reaching her mind, it pushes her off the edge. Sergio puts his arm on her shoulder, wanting to give her some comfort, but then jerks away, because the look on Raquel’s face isn’t of a human. It is of a wild animal.

“Raquel…” Sergio begins, but she cuts him off.

“It is…” Raquel is panting, the veins on her forehead pulsate and her lips turn pale blue. “You… Your… Your fault,” she closes her eyes. Speaking is hard, and right now there is so much she wants to say, it makes her body shake. “I trusted you!”


	13. Arguments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No words are enough to express how grateful I am to KarenDeidre for all she's done for this chapter!!!

" _Hey, remember Raquel Murillo, an Inspector gone rouge who we said was shot dead, resisting arrest five years ago? We lied. We actually lost her on the way to our secret prison in Africa where we torture people. Sincerely yours, Spanish Intelligence,"_ Tamayo's voice says with sarcasm. "Yeah, that’s gonna play very well in the media!” he adds.

“Don’t dramatize it, colonel. Just wrap up this Murillo mess before it’s too late.”

“It will be over in the next forty-eight hours, trust me. Once and for all,” Tamayo’s voice in the speaker goes down to a threatening whisper, and Sergio moves his gaze between everybody in the room.

They are all silent, staring at the computer. What Tamayo’s just said is slowly sinking in. Unsure who the other speaker on the recording is, Sergio sends a message to his IT team, his mind is restless. _They… lost her? They lost Raquel, they lost her, CNI lost her, who had her then, who had her this whole time and why…_ His heart pounds in his ears, and this is when all of it suddenly makes sense. He frowns. _Sons of bitches!_

“Professor?” he hears Denver’s voice. “That file isn’t over,” he points at the screen, and Sergio realizes he’s stopped the recording half way.

Taking a deep breath, Sergio clicks on it, and they all hear Tamayo’s and stranger’s voices again…

**TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER.**

“I trusted you!” Raquel cries for the third time. Not yells, but cries, and Sergio can feel his body go numb. He’d rather she went nuclear right now, but she’s getting tinier and it seems like her mind is slipping away. “Paula…” it’s a mere whisper now coming through Raquel’s tears.

He studies her, but he is shaken himself. Right now he needs to concentrate on what these new circumstances mean for them, for their plan. Yet, all Sergio’s mind can think of is whether Paula is okay and how he’s terrified Raquel might hide in her shell once again. She’s trusted him, she’s come back, _because_ she trusted him. And now that trust is gone, and he worries it may prove to be impossible to pull her back.

 _Paula is here in Madrid. She’s in police custody. Paula is here and police have her, and Raquel is having a quiet meltdown – the scariest of them all - and Paula is here, and police know what she knows…_ _How did Paula actually get here? He didn’t grant her access to their money, and her Spanish passport has long expired, so… how?_

And then, what _has_ he told Paula in their long conversations when he tried to keep her calm? Has he told her that the gang is back together? What they are planning? What has _Raquel_ told her daughter? Sergio shakes his head, still ignoring the tension in the room. Everybody looks at him, silently, expecting an answer. Problem is, he doesn’t have one right now, and they can all smell it.

Sergio clears his throat. He would prefer to be left alone for some time: to assess the situation, to consider possible outcomes. He mentally crashes his fist into an imaginary punching bag a few times before speaking.

“The first thing we have to do is…” he takes a deep breath, “We verify that _that_ is really Paula,” he nods to himself, bending his fingers. “And that she is alright. Then…”

“They will not hurt her, right?” Monica interrupts him quietly.

“Of course not,” he responds. Sergio appreciates Monica’s attempt to comfort Raquel (or, perhaps, pull him out of his own growing panic). “They have no reason to,” he adds and fixes his glasses. “Raquel, Paula will be alright, I promise!”

He knows he shouldn’t have said that the moment the words leave his mouth. There’s a rising chatter in the room, and there are seizure-like shivers taking over Raquel’s body. He doesn’t understand her words, but he can guess what she wants to convey.

At least, her mind is no longer retreating. That’s good.

“Because police always do _good_ , huh!” Tokyo mumbles under her breath, and Bogota adds in a low voice, walking past Sergio:

“They will hurt her if they need to.”

“Does the girl know anything?” Marseille speaks out loud over Bogota’s quiet remark.

Sergio watches Alicia’s smirk widen. Former inspector is enjoying this way too much, almost like she doesn’t care that her life depends on the success of their plan, too. (Except it _doesn’t_ , and Sergio knows it: she can claim she’s been kidnapped and held against her will. That needs to change, he notes briefly, between reminding the gang that this video of Paula on the national television can be nothing more than a _deep fake_ and assuring Marseille that _the girl knows nothing_ ).

Unfortunately, Sergio knows the video is real. He knows it, because it makes all the sense in the world, but he isn’t willing to tell the gang how he’s been hiding Paula’s disappearance from them for days.

Raquel leaves him no choice.

Slowly coming back to her senses, she speaks surprisingly clearly (she pauses, corrects herself and stutters, but Raquel’s words form sentences, and if the circumstances were different, Sergio would be thrilled with her progress). She talks about the lies he’s been telling her, about her family’s relocation he’s made up (and it stings when she says ‘my family’, _her_ family, because it’s supposed to be _theirs_ ). Sergio sees how Denver gives Tokyo a stare when she’s about to say something, but she interrupts Raquel anyway.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us, Professor?”

“It was irrelevant,” Sergio fends off, and Bogota clears his throat.

“Irrelevant? We risk our lives here. We should know what the fuck we’re dealing with.”

“We get her,” Raquel states as soon as there’s brief silence in the room.

“No,” Sergio quickly shakes his head.

“What?!” this is Monica, but looking at everyone’s faces, Sergio knows it could be almost anyone at this point.

“Not right now,” Sergio explains with all the patience he can manage. “It’s a trap.”

“Yes, _now_ ,” Raquel growls. “ _Your_ stupid lies caused this. So _fix_ it!”

His lies didn’t cause this, they merely delayed the outcome. Anger slowly grows inside Sergio.

Her daughter’s short temper and absence of forward-thinking caused this. Her daughter’s stubbornness caused this. Her daughter’s inability to hear voice of reason caused this.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Sergio sighs, earning a gasp from Raquel and a few quiet curses from others. He’s been trying so hard, but it wasn’t enough. This is a mess. “She did what _you_ did. Ignored what I had told her completely,” he doesn’t mean to reproach her, but it ends up sounding painfully so.

“Don’t you dare!” Raquel shouts, and her words become messier and more unclear. She gets up abruptly, then freezes, confused.

“I asked you to stay home, Raquel,” he rises onto his feet too, but stands at a distance (not completely sure, whether it’s because he doesn’t want to intimidate Raquel or because deep down he fears she might actually attack him). “We wouldn’t _all_ be here if you’d just listened to me back then!”

“Parents are fighting, kids hide in the corners,” Alicia chuckles quietly and leans back on the sofa. Sergio hears her, but chooses to ignore.

“You’re fucking right, you would… _wouldn’t_ ,” Raquel hisses, taking an unsteady step towards Sergio, following his voice.

Her speech is slow, and at first he thinks he’s probably heard her wrong. Sergio can see that Raquel is trying to say more, but it’s too hard for her; he pushes:

“Exactly, Raquel, and…”

“Okay, sorry to interrupt, but you’re being unfair, Professor. She can’t possibly keep up with you like this... Here, let me try,” Alicia cuts in, grimacing at Sergio, and shouts over his attempt to tell her to stay quiet. “ _You’re fucking right, you wouldn’t be here, cos you’d all be arrested or killed!.._ Well, you were going to say?” Alicia nods, amused.

“Oh, like someone wants to hear you talk, bitch!” Tokyo bursts, quickly approaching Alicia, but Raquel raises her hand into the air in front of Tokyo, and Tokyo stops, one foot in the air. “Seriously, Lisbon?” 

Sergio studies Raquel’s face, then moves his gaze between everybody else. They are as surprised as he is. Reluctantly, Sergio continues, but anger he was feeling moments ago is replaced with frustration. He watches Marseille get up and leave the room.

“Uh, well,” Sergio takes a deep breath, nodding uncomfortably. Raquel is really not herself if she’s willing to allow Alicia Sierra to play mind games, and former Inspector knows how to throw people off their game. If Sergio asks himself why he doesn’t just ignore Sierra this very moment, he won’t be able to answer. It has a lot to do with the guilt he’s accumulated over the past years (and especially over the past weeks) that overwhelm him. It’s too much for him, he’s not the only one to blame. Not everything in this mess is his fault. In the heat of the moment he even briefly thinks that, perhaps, none of it is. “If she had stayed… _home_ , this wouldn’t have happened,” he states, wondering if it makes sense to hide where _home_ used to be; his eyes quickly move between Raquel and Alicia.

“Oh, come on, you can do better,” Alicia laughs back, rolling her eyes. “Right, Raquel?”

Raquel remains speechless, but he can see her jaws move slightly in annoyance. Whether she’s annoyed with him, or both him and her former colleague, remains a mystery.

“ _I couldn’t stay in Philippines, because you needed my police expertise_ ,” Alicia states loudly with a smirk. “ _You’d have been caught before you even asked me what I was wearing.”_

Is this just a lucky guess? Sergio’s eyes widen in shock for a moment; that’s enough for Sierra to catch it.

“This is ridiculous,” he hisses.

He’ll just take Raquel to the bedroom and explain everything to her privately (he knows he must apologize, even if he really shouldn’t have to), after that he’ll figure out how their plan is affected and then he’ll deal with the gang. The moment he takes a step towards Raquel, Monica puts herself in his way and shakes her head slightly.

“It’s not,” Raquel’s speech sounds messy, but he understands everything nonetheless.

“We’ve been through this before,” Sergio grits his teeth.

“You brought it back,” Raquel fends off.

“Raque-el! I’m supposed to be speaking for you, remember?” Alicia is enjoying this too much, and Sergio clenches his fists. “Where was I? Uh, yes. _You brought it back!”_ she theatrically repeats and waves her cuffed hands in front of her face. “For the sake of transparency, this is _me_ speaking for myself right now, Professor,” Alicia adds, twisting her lips. “Trust me when I say this, we would’ve caught you much sooner if you were alone in that fucking van, driving through Spanish valleys,” she grimaces. “But back we go! _You just can’t stand if someone isn’t a quiet follower of your plans, can you? We were…_ ” she glances at Raquel, addressing her. “Were we, Raquel?” Raquel stays motionless. Alicia continues, _“We were happy while nothing was at stake. But the moment things went south, you no longer wanted me by your side. Did you actually love me in the first place? Or was it just too awkward to send me back home when I showed up at your hammock with my mother and my daughter?”_

Raquel shakes her head and clears her throat. Alicia is so far off with this. The former inspector has no clue how Raquel and her family moved to Palawan; Sergio prefers it to stay that way.

“How am I doing, Raquel?” Alicia snaps back, but before Raquel is able to react, Alicia goes on. “Should I add more disdain? Maybe say… Wait, let me try,” she chuckles. “I think I got this. _You don’t want to save my daughter, because I couldn’t save your brother. Is it that? Is it revenge, Sergio? I was in a police tent when he was shot, and I didn’t stop them? I could’ve ordered them to stand down, to take him alive, but…”_

Raquel inhales loudly through her nose, swaying slightly, and Monica turns around to steady her by her shoulders.

“That’s enough!” Sergio’s self control cracks and he turns quickly to Alicia, feeling the urge to cross the few meters between them and pull her out of the room before she does actual harm with her words.

He doesn’t dare; physical altercation is the last thing they need right now, tension is bad as it is.

Vivid memories of the first hours after Berlin’s death are hitting Sergio like an avalanche. He remembers wondering briefly why Raquel didn’t help, even if he also remembers knowing she _probably_ couldn’t have done anything for his brother. 

_“Just because you have no one left to care about, doesn’t mean I should, too!”_ Alicia shoots, leaning forward on the sofa.

“It was your people who murdered my brother,” Sergio hisses, and at this point he cannot tell if this is entirely addressed at Alicia. Damn, this is spiraling out of control.

 _“He was a rapist! He deserved what he got!”_ Alicia gets up.

Tokyo smirks. Monica shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. Denver rubs his lips with his palm.

“Stop it, Inspector.”

 _“Why? I spent five years…”_ she goes on, theatrically raising her voice, then stops, visibly calculating something in her mind. _“One thousand six hundred whatever days, being tortured and raped and starved while you were sipping mojito under a palm tree, raising my daughter, why should I stop?”_ she gives him a crooked smile, satisfaction on her face, and this is when Tokyo punches her in the face. Alicia crumbles onto the floor.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Sergio rushes to pull Tokyo away before she kicks Sierra again.

He glances at Raquel. She’s pale, her lips dark purple, her body shaking wildly; she sits down and squeezes her temples with hands, humming something.

Fuck. He should’ve been braver, he shouldn’t have let Raquel be here right now.

“Should just let you do _that_ again,” Bogota tells Tokyo, holding her firmly while Sergio stands above Alicia.

She spits blood.

Sergio grabs her arm and tries to pull towards the door, wishing Helsinki were here. She evades and pushes him just enough to get away. She doesn’t move after that, just stands, measuring him with her look.

“You’re welcome,” Alicia turns her head and throws towards Raquel. “But don’t expect me to substitute for you in bed, too. Boring librarians are not my fetish.”

“Please, stop, you’re hurting her,” Monica pleads, holding Raquel’s shoulders with her both hands, keeping their body contact to sooth the woman. “We can leave,” she says quieter to Raquel and gets up, ready to lead her to the bedroom.

“I. Am. Fine,” Raquel manages through her hectic breathing, but everybody can see she’s on a brink. “I’m…” she trails off and her pained face relaxes, eyes freeze on an invisible spot in front of her.

There are tears running down her cheeks and her eyelids are trembling wildly. Her breathing calm, hands rest on her knees. She’s quiet.

“Raquel?” Sergio calls carefully. She doesn’t react. He tries again, but result is the same.

“Raquel, honey, can you hear me?” Monica tries in a soft voice.

There is no response.

“Why would you do this to her?” Sergio hisses at Alicia, rage boiling inside him. His heart echos in his chin and teeth, his throat pulsates.

“ _You_ did this to her, Professor,” Alicia retorts and rolls her eyes. “You did this to her when you tricked her into falling for you. She would’ve fallen for anyone, _anyone_ who’d be kind and caring, and you exploited that. _You_ made her believe this was going to be a magical world with unicorns and flying puppies. _You_ did this to her… Raquel, can you hear me?” she adds, turning her head.

Alicia glances at Tokyo, then moves her gaze around the room as if to challenge them to stop her and rises onto her feet. It’s quiet. Tokyo raises her eyebrows, ready to jump up. Sergio steps closer to Raquel and freezes there, unsure what to do and uncomfortable of all the eyes pointed at him. He hears Alicia walk up to them behind his back, turns around and they stare at each other for a moment, Alicia’s face tense. Without a word she sits on the floor in front of Raquel and looks into her face for almost a minute. Bogota starts speaking, but Sergio is so concentrated watching the two women that he doesn’t catch a single word.

“Come back,” Alicia’s voice isn’t soft or begging. It’s demanding. “Come back, Raquel!”

There’s no reaction, but Sergio is willing to let her try. One thing inspector is right about is that she has a longer history with Raquel than he does (and then with Alicia’s experience, she might actually know what to do, even if Sergio doesn’t like that notion).

“You’ve gone through the worst of it, and you’re out,” Alicia continues in a matter-of-fact voice. “And this is better than what you have in there, so come back and help your daughter. I can see you’re not gone completely, don’t you dare! Your librarian will kill me, you know? You don’t want my blood on your hands … Wake up, sleepy head!” Alicia raises her voice and snaps her fingers in front of Raquel’s face.

Raquel gasps, jerks backwards and growls, her hand instinctively punching the air in front of her. Alicia dodges.

“Shit…” Tokyo mumbles.

“Raquel?” Sergio whispers.

Raquel is still gasping.

“What just happened?” Denver asks, confused, but still keeping his distance.

Monica leans closer to Raquel and covers her hand with a palm, but Raquel doesn’t look any less confused. She screws up her eyes.

“You’ve just given me one more reason to shoot you dead the moment we don’t need you,” Bogota hisses at Alicia, his voice dry and low.

There’s a self-satisfied smirk on Alicia’s face, and a trail of blood coming from the corner of her mouth. Ironic combination, Sergio briefly thinks in the back of his head while he almost pushes Alicia away.

“Enough!” he yells.

Events of the past few minutes now seem surreal. How did it all spiral out of control so fast?

Well, he knows _how_ : Raquel is his weakness, his blind spot.

“So?” Alicia raises her eyebrows, amused, and gives everybody a look. “Is it all, then? Can we move past the _it’s your fault, no, it’s yours_ and do some fun things? Like, save the girl and make her mama happy?”

Raquel’s hand rests on Monica’s knee, and then Raquel takes a slow deep breath, steadying herself. She rubs her eyes with a palm aggressively.

“We did it your way,” Raquel mumbles towards Sergio quietly, still keeping a hand in front of her eyes. The bandages on her face make it hard to speak. “That got us _here_. I won’t… let my da… daughter…” she grimaces and swallows hard, then touches her forehead with fingertips and rests her hand on Monica’s lap.

Raquel’s visibly in pain, and as much as Sergio is pissed off, he aches for her. His first instinct is to pull Raquel into his embrace for comfort, but he can guess how that’s going to go, so he stays put. He pushes his glasses higher, presses them into the bridge of his nose, and licks his lips.

“All in favor of a communal rescue plan for Paulita, raise your hand,” Alicia raises her voice, theatrically rolling her eyes, and lifts both her handcuffed hands.

Sergio looks around in awe: having witnessed this awkward encounter the gang doesn’t rush to support him. This is what happens when you lose control, even briefly, his mind warns.

“This is a bad idea,” he states dryly. “They will know you are all here.”

“Doesn’t hurt to consider all the options,” Marseille shrugs from the doorway, and Sergio sees everyone but Tokyo nod.

Sergio shares a look with her, and he can absolutely read ‘I told you so’ on Tokyo’s face. Fuck, this wasn’t at all how he envisioned this afternoon. There’s a lot of noise in the living room, everybody saying something over others, and yelling and pointing fingers, and he sees how Raquel is going pale again, keeping her palm in front of her face, but when he offers to take her to the bedroom she all but jumps away from him.

To his relief, Monica soon manages to convince her to leave, and seeing the bedroom door close behind the two women, Sergio exits the living room as well.

If they want to plan a rescue mission that will fail, he’ll let them (he is rather surprised no one is complaining about having to be in the same room with Sierra anymore – Inspectora certainly knows her way around people). He starts a mental timer to see how soon the gang realizes anything they have thus far suggested will only end up creating more trouble.

Quietly hiding in the terrace, he looks through a flood of messages from his IT team: they are forwarding him a lot of phone call recordings and email chains concerning Paula. It seems her arrival wasn’t something authorities expected. For a brief moment Sergio entertains the idea of sending a hired muscle to break Paula from custody: if this isn’t a preplanned police operation, chances are, there won’t be a trap.

Unfortunately, there is no mention of her current whereabouts.

Sergio checks media outlets, seeing even more footage with Paula. There are CCTV photos of her from inside the airport and a video with two officers escorting her to a police car outside the terminal. Sergio stops the clip and stares at the screen for a long moment: one of the uniformed men is pulling a suitcase that by all means seems to belong to Paula (and while she looks upset, Sergio notes how she is isn’t terrified; she isn’t trying to break free).

He checks the license plate number, hoping it will show which station she is at. It doesn’t help. Hacking into the police database gives nothing as well: Paula’s location is classified.

As his search leads nowhere, Sergio slowly starts to give way to the worries he’s been suppressing. He hates how everything got out of control today, and that _is_ his fault completely.

What’s happened during the Bank of Spain operation, is happening again: he’s losing his grip on the situation, he’s overreacting and he’s unable to fix it. Raquel isn’t the weakest link. _He_ is.

He shouldn’t be so emotionally attached, it makes him vulnerable. And now it isn’t just Paula in the police custody or the fact that the gang is currently planning an operation without him. It’s a risk that all of this will come back to bite Raquel’s recovery.

She might have progressed significantly over the past week and even more so today, driven by the strongest emotions possible. But who’s to say she won’t have a major setback tomorrow, when those emotions inevitably calm down?

He knows he has to find Paula.

His next idea isn’t his finest, but Sergio still goes through with it.

He starts tracking Alberto’s movements in hopes he’ll eventually go to his daughter. It’s a long shot. Sergio has no way of knowing whether CNI will even allow Paula’s father near her, and if they do, whether the guy will actually be interested. It’s one thing to announce on the national television that you miss your daughter and want her back. It’s a whole different story to have the balls to meet her after eight years.

Sergio is relieved when he easily finds Alberto, following his bank card activity. Vicuna pays for gas just outside Madrid (making Sergio wonder if it’s too late and the guy has already visited his daughter). Later, there are small random purchases and then a bigger bill from a supermarket that’s way too far from Alberto’s house or his police department to be a usual spot.

It’s a short notice, but Sergio manages to have three men follow Alberto right from that supermarket. They take turns to make sure they aren’t burned. They still lose him.

A traffic camera hacked by Sergio’s IT team spots Alberto half an hour later in the centre of Madrid. Sergio curses under his breath when his people on the ground lose Alberto for the second time.

_He better do it himself._

As soon as he knows where Alberto is right now, Sergio puts on a wig and quickly sneaks out of the apartment. He walks down the corridor, passes by the elevator and heads down the staircase. It’s when he walks to the second floor that he realizes how insane all of it is. He stops. This is exactly what he shouldn’t be doing. Yes, the people he’s hired are not great, but he shouldn’t risk getting caught or exposed. Authorities might not yet know he is in Madrid (and Spain is big).

Terrified that he’s repeating his every step that’s led to a fiasco five years ago, Sergio stays there for a few more minutes. This is irrational, he needs a clear mind. He continues his way towards the exit much slower and with less determination, walks a few blocks, pops into a small Dia and buys groceries, then goes back home. Just as he is about to pull the door to enter the building, someone passes by – their phone ringing a quiet Bella Ciao – and Sergio reluctantly allows his mind to wander back to his brother for a brief moment. He shoves the memories away before they take hold of him. _Not now._

He heads to the kitchen and drinks a glass of cold water. _This was close._ He checks the messages: his men lost Alberto yet again, and as the time passes, there is no trace of the bastard to be found.

_Shit._

When the night comes, Sergio quietly walks into the bedroom, unsure what to do. This day has been a true failure.

He sees Monica manage Raquel’s dinner and then bathroom, and it’s clear that Raquel doesn’t want him anywhere near. Yet, he feels it’s his unwritten duty to let her land one more blow. Awkwardly shifting from one foot to another, he approaches her when she sits on the bed, and Monica hesitantly takes a step back to give them space.

This would be the first night Raquel sleeps without him. Sergio’s nervous.

“I deserve this, Raquel, every bit of it,” he begins, studying her features. He doesn’t completely agree that he’s the only one to blame, but this is not the time to set scores. “I…” he sniffs sharply and shoots it, “Do you want me in your bed tonight?”

Raquel takes a few moments to consider his question, her head down, and then she nods, her lips wobbling and her eyes wet, pointed at him. Sergio frowns, looking at her face closely. Something is different about her. He knows she’d probably prefer to keep him away. It pains him this isn’t a choice she has a capability of making _yet_. This really is unfair.

He carefully lowers himself onto the bed, sits uncomfortably on the edge for about a minute, waiting for Raquel to indicate where she wants him. She’s silent. Her breathing is deep.

“I’m really sorry about earlier,” Sergio begins, but she lifts her face towards him, shakes her head, then pulls her feet onto the bed, lies down and turns away from him without saying a word.

Hesitantly, he follows, spooning her body with his, but not touching her, mere centimeters between them. Several minutes go by, and Sergio closes his eyes, listing all the things he regrets about this day. They get mixed up with all the things he must do tomorrow, and, annoyed, he opens his eyes to stare at the back of Raquel’s head. She moves backwards (and the way she does so shows how angry she still is, probably more at the fact that she needs him than at what he’s done), slamming herself against him. Her body is pressed to his a little stronger than usually. And then she falls asleep, leaving Sergio alone with his thoughts.

She wakes up several hours later, screaming and panting, and at first Sergio can’t catch any of the words she’s rumbling. It sounds similar to all the other nights.

“I don’t know… _No lo sé._ I don’t know…”

Sergio caresses her reddened cheeks, then moves his hands to the back of her neck, slides down onto her shoulders and rests them on her ribs. He holds her like that to make sure she doesn’t jerk away and fall from the bed; slowly pulls her closer, into his embrace.

“It’s going to be alright, sh-h-h, you’re safe, Raquel, _estoy contigo_ ,” he whispers like a prayer, his fingers brushing through her hair when she presses her forehead to his chin.

This can be the setback he feared. Sergio sighs. How bad will it get this time?

“I don’t know. Don’t know where it is…” Raquel mumbles.

“It’s ok, Raquel. It’s all over, you’re out of there,” Sergio breathes heavily into her hair, “We’re in Madrid, we’re in an apartment, in our bedroom, Raquel. We’re both wearing ridiculous _librarian pajamas.”_

She growls and puts her hands between their chests.

“I don’t know. I swear, I don’t know where the _gold_ is,” she cries softly under her breath and sniffs.

A moment later Sergio gasps, stunned.

His first instinct is to pull her away and study her face, but he can’t move. Raquel keeps crying, her body slowly sliding down until her face is pressed to his chest, tears wetting his shirt. He caresses the back of her head, her sweaty hair sticky under his touch.

Sergio’s confused. Why would CNI ask her about gold if CNI were the ones who’d stolen it. He blinks quickly, rubs his eyes and reaches to grab his glasses. Raquel’s face still pressed against his chest, her body is now more relaxed, heaving slowly on his lap. She isn’t asleep, he knows. She’s crying.

“Raquel?” he calls carefully, soft whisper by her ear. “Raquel, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

“Uh-huh,” she moos without lifting her head.

“Did they ask you about _gold_ … Did they ask? _About gold?”_

Perhaps, she’s just confused, he tells himself. She’s been hearing a lot about the gold these past days, she could be _confused_.

It takes Raquel several moments to react to his question. Her breathing still hectic, but she no longer sobs. She pulls away, sitting up on the bed and staring right in front of herself. She screws up her eyes.

“What gold?” Raquel pushes through her lips with difficulty.

Sergio sighs, picking a wet strand of hair from her face and tucking in behind her ear. Raquel winces at his touch, then frowns, confused.

“Do you remember what you’ve just dreamt about, Raquel?”

She shakes her head and lowers her face.

“Don’t remember.”

Sergio suppresses an urge to growl _. This again._ When he calms down enough to think straight, though, he appreciates the self-defense mechanisms of Raquel’s mind once again. He pushes his worries aside – there is nothing he can do right now, he comforts himself, trying to fall asleep. He is equally surprised and relieved that Raquel isn’t having nightmares about her daughter, at least not yet.

His back pressed to the mattress, Raquel’s hand on his chest and her face buried against his neck, Sergio takes a long time to _let go_ and fall asleep. It’s pointless to dwell on it now. He absentmindedly caresses Raquel’s hair until he can hear she’s dozed off, and then stares at the ceiling, different scenarios going through his head.

For a split second, right before falling asleep himself, he thinks – hopes – that in the morning everything will be back to normal. His sleepy mind doesn’t specify what _normal_ it refers to, but as the morning comes, situation just spirals out of control even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a mutually supported balance between ficwriters & ficreaders that makes it work. Neither one owes anything to the other. Writers do their best to create good stories, readers support them by writing feedback. Take one of these things away, and it all crumbles.


	14. Guesses (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is still alive thanks to KarenDeidre's support and stubbornness. Thank you soooo much, hon!

Sergio’s morning begins rather unusually. It’s not a change in Raquel’s breathing that wakes him up. It’s not the light coming through the window and the terrace door and it’s not even his gadgets informing him there’s an incoming message.

It’s Monica pushing his shoulder, bending over the bed and calling him over and over again, her voice worried and tense.

“Professor, you have to see it!” she whispers insistently into his ear as soon as he half opens his eyes. “There’s Lisbon’s daughter.”

Sergio almost jumps up, suppressing the urge to move fast, and carefully sneaks out of bed. To his relief, Raquel stirs in her sleep, but doesn’t wake up – she is beyond exhausted with all that’s happened.

He quietly follows Monica into the living room. There’s someone in the kitchen, must be Denver, but otherwise the apartment is still quiet.

Vision still blurry after sleep, Sergio tries to focus on the TV screen. He instinctively pushes up his glasses, blinks rapidly, glances at Monica as if expecting an explanation, even though he doesn’t need one. It’s Paula on the screen. She’s being interviewed for a talk show (but she’s clearly not in their studio).

There is a phone number and a ‘ _Reward for any information regarding current whereabouts of the Inspector Raquel Murillo’_ at the bottom of the screen.

Sergio turns up the volume and his eyes widen. How long has it been going on before Monica managed to wake him up?

What Paula says about her time with Sergio – _about her time being held captive by the Professor_ – blows air out of Sergio’s lungs. It hurts on a personal level. And it’s damaging to all of them, much more damaging than what he could expect. He sighs. She can’t be blamed for the things she’s saying. She needs to stay safe, and if staying safe in a police custody means accusing him of all the imaginable horrors, so be it. But this complicates things. 

“I didn’t,” he mumbles to Monica, suddenly feeling the need to tell her Paula is lying.

“I know,” she nods without looking at him and hugs herself.

 _“Mister Marquina… Sergio, please,”_ Paula’s voice trembles and her face on the screen gets a close-up so everyone can see tears in her eyes, _“Please, give me my mom back. Please, don’t hurt her, please…”_

This stings. Sergio grimaces.

Poor girl. What have they done to her? What have they told her? He tries not to think of what’s going on with Paula right now, but these thoughts are hard to get rid of; and the more they are there, the more he realizes that, perhaps, she’s pissed off with him enough to say these things willingly.

Once she’s out of there, it’ll get better.

After all, she’s a child, a scared teenage girl lying under duress – what can be more believable than that? Police are known to manipulate people.

But as if someone is reading Sergio’s mind, right after Paula’s plea there comes heavy artillery. An old footage of Raquel is on the screen – Sergio immediately recognizes the video he’s watched so many times.

Raquel’s face is tired, with bags under her eyes and wobbling lips. He frowns, glances at Monica and briefly wonders if they are going to push the undercover agent story yet again.

They don’t.

 _“He deceived me, pretended to be this sweet guy, Salva…”_ she says from the screen, her forehead resting on her hand.

He’s seen this video enough times to know what’s coming next. That is the third hour of Raquel’s debriefing ( _interrogation_ , Sergio’s mind points out _; it’s an interrogation_ ) after the Royal Mint case. She’s tired, thirsty, hungry and scared by all the threats they’ve thrown at her.

 _“What happened after you found out his true identity?”_ Prieto asks, but his face is cropped out.

And, of course, they’ve edited out a big chunk of Raquel’s answer, keeping only the damaging part. Sergio doesn’t realize _how_ damaging her words sound out of context, until he hears them and sees Paula’s reaction on a small screen at the bottom.

 _“He grabbed me from behind, he grabbed my neck, and he chocked me. I couldn’t control my hands, dropped the gun, and the next thing I remember…_ [There’s another piece of her statement missing] _… he sat in front of me, pointing my own gun at me.”_

 _“What happened after that?”_ Prieto’s voice inquires.

_“He took away my phone and left me there…”_

Sergio rubs his lips with fingers. He has the video, he can release it like he’s planned, but the damage is done. He should’ve released it sooner. The full version, not just the bits he’s picked. All the three plus hours, all of Raquel’s yelling and crying, and pulling at her handcuffs before those were taken off, and refusing to help the police find the Professor, and yawning (because from the way her hair and clothes are, it seems they’ve pulled her out of bed to drag into that room).

This goes on for a few more minutes: Raquel’s words, taken out of context, are meant to support the monstrous image of the Professor. What Raquel says is true: he really did all those things, but she doesn’t mean them the way police make it sound right now…

And then the talk show ends, leaving both Sergio and Monica speechless (he imagines a lot of people feel the same way at this moment). And just as Sergio is about to rush to his computer and release the full video, Monica stops him, because there’s his photo on the TV screen, and the ‘ _Reward for any information regarding current whereabouts of the Inspector Raquel Murillo’_ phone number appears at the bottom again.

A statement from the President’s press-secretary is released.

_“The investigation into the alleged involvement of the Spanish government in the disappearance of the two billions in gold is now officially concluded. The work group found no evidence to support the outrageous claims Professor a.k.a. Sergio Marquina has laid. The video has been confirmed to be real…”_

Still looking at the TV, Sergio quickly makes it to the desk and pulls a burner phone from the drawer. He comes back to the screen and, keeping his eyes on the number at the bottom, dials it. The line is busy, and a robot-like voice informs him that the expected waiting time is fifteen minutes.

The press-secretary goes on without pausing.

_“…The trucks on the video in question indeed belong to the Spanish military, but they were stolen shortly before the robbery of the Bank of Spain took place. Investigators have concluded that the trucks were then sold on the black market, as were the ammunitions that the robbers used to get inside the Bank…”_

This is not surprising. It was bound to happen. Even if the new President isn’t involved in any of it, he cannot go against the entire system. Yet, Sergio was hoping this investigation would take longer and give him more information.

 _“Estimated waiting time is ten minutes,”_ Sergio hears the same robotic voice coming from his phone.

“Do you think they’ve shut down the investigation, because they got Paula’s story?” Monica asks carefully.

He nods.

It’s a possibility. And unfortunately, he has to admit that it is most probably the truth. Now that the police have an eye witness that can claim Sergio Marquina to be a monster, there’s no point to sway the public opinion against him. People won’t trust him even when he says the sky is blue.

_“Estimated waiting time is seven minutes.”_

“Won’t they be able to do that thing where they find out where you are calling from?” Monica asks, moving to stand closer to Sergio.

No, not if he’s very brief in what he says. He just wants to let Paula know she is safe. He can only imagine what horrors police or whoever holds the girl have told her.

_“Estimated waiting time is six minutes…”_

And then the line goes dead. Sergio curses and dials again. To no avail.

There’s noise coming from the hallway, Sergio registers Helsinki’s voice. Good. He’s back. Sergio takes a deep breath, staring at the TV screen, but they’ve gone to a commercial. He puts the phone away, a feeling of a déjà vu taking over him. This has happened before – they gave a phone number for people to call, and only the chosen ones made it to the studio. Back then they were swaying the public opinion. He wonders what this number is supposed to cause this time.

He looks down. This is when Sergio realizes he is still wearing his pajama.

“Hey, Professor!” Helsinki addresses him, standing in the doorway.

Sergio nods uncomfortably.

“All well?”

“Yes,” Helsinki responds.

Sergio looks at him, knowing what questions he still needs to ask, but he’s got no energy to do any of it right now. He needs to regroup, to process all that has happened, all the blows the government and the police have delivered so precisely and at once. He hates blaming it on his daughter, but everything leads to Paula. Had she not come like this, had she not been caught, authorities wouldn’t have upper hand right now.

Now that they do, they clearly decided to sink the resistance, all at once. How many people will support the Professor and his cause now? Sure, some won’t trust all the accusations, but he has to give it to Tamayo or whoever’s come up with this scenario – they’ve created a good story. A very believable one: with an undercover police officer and her kidnapped daughter, both hurt by a criminal mastermind.

Ignoring Helsinki’s attempts to talk to him, Sergio grabs the phone and heads back to the bedroom, quickly sends a message to his IT team, asking to release the full video of Raquel’s interrogation from eight years ago, then rushes to the bathroom to wash his face and take a pill.

By the time it takes effect and his heart no longer pounds in his ears like a huge bell, Raquel starts waking up. Her body shifts on the bed and there are troubled shadows on her face. When she opens her eyes, she looks utterly confused. Sergio stands above her, wondering what’s going on inside her head.

She sits up. He squats down.

“Good morning, Raquel.”

She doesn’t respond for some time, turning her head to the sides, almost like she’s following some kind of smell or sound.

“Good morning.” Her voice is quiet, face directed at Sergio. She sits still. “I’m not mad,” she adds, her voice softer this time.

“You have the right to be.”

She shakes her head slightly, licks her lower lip, then gets up and stands next to the bed until Sergio takes her hand, ready to lead her to the bathroom like he does every morning. This routine is so constant, it feels imprinted on his mind. Only, this time he notices small changes here and there. Raquel touches the door when they enter the bathroom, and she slows down when they pass by the mirror, and then she takes the tissue from his hand rather than waits till he puts it into hers. He spots these things, but can’t quite understand what they mean.

“Sergio?” she calls for him worriedly when he steps away to get her clean clothes. “Ser…”

“I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m right here.”

She winces when he puts the dentures into her mouth and wraps the bandages around her face. He winces, too, then looks down to see her hand resting in the sink, water running over her fingers.

“Are you alright, Raquel?” Sergio asks. He still dreads the setback she might have. He dreads it because he has no idea when or in what form it will happen (and this waiting starts driving him crazy much sooner than he’s expected).

“Paula. Promise me?” she raises her face, and he sees all shades of pain there. Raquel shifts from one foot to another, stepping onto the pajama she’s just taken off.

“We…” he sighs. “I won’t let any harm come her way, I promise.”

“Find her. Please. I will go…”

Sergio frowns. This is insane.

“Go where? No, Raquel, wait…”

She pulls her hand from under the water and presses it to his mouth, drops falling down onto his beard and shirt.

“The police. They have her. I need…”

“Raquel, your husband is probably there. It’s a horrible idea. You’re not ready.”

“Not! Your! Call!”

She slams her palm against his chest and winces. It hurts her more than it does him.

There’s a wet stain on his shirt where her hand has hit him.

He stands, confused, and so does she. They are silent.

“I’m sorry,” Raquel moans and hides her face in her hands. Sergio parts his lips to speak, but she beats him to it. “I’m scared,” she adds in a whisper, and he reaches down to the tab to turn off the water, then puts his hand onto Raquel’s bare shoulder, caressing it with his thumb. There’s a scar just below the collar bone, and Sergio carefully follows the skin next to it with his fingertips. Weightlessly.

“I’m scared, too,” Sergio admits next to her ear and rests his forehead against hers. “But that’s exactly what they want. They want us all to live in fear. And we won’t let them.”

“And I’m angry,” Raquel whispers in an unsteady voice. “What have they done to me?”

“What should never be done to a human being,” he spats with a mixture of disgust and fear. Raquel isn’t talking about her physical pain – they’ve grown used to taking care of it with pills and massages. But this acknowledgement of hers, this understanding of how wrong things are – this hurts. He doesn’t know what worries him more: potential setback she might have or _this_.

“I’m so tired…”

“We’ll get through it, I’m right here,” Sergio reassures her and pulls away enough to kiss Raquel’s forehead. She closes her eyes, a quiet humming comes from her when her hand rests on Sergio’s chest – exactly on top of the wet stain on his shirt.

“I can’t,” she mumbles under her breath.

“Yes, you can.”

“Emotionally… Emo… Emotionally you want to believe that. But scien… scienti… scientif… tific…” she trails off, fighting with the bandages on her face that stop her mouth from opening wide enough to talk comfortably. “It’s bad.”

“Loo… Listen, Raquel, listen,” he squeezes her shoulders and moves his face closer to hers. “You’ve gone so far beyond any bravest doctor’s expectations. You’re strong…”

“I don’t want to be…” she moans, and Sergio feels her body sliding gown, towards the floor. He pulls her up again. “My daughter is in danger because of me. _My mistakes_.”

“Everything will be alright, Raquel,” he states, running his hands through her grey hair, grimaces. He feels relieved that she cannot see his face at this moment. A strand of hair gets caught by the scar on Raquel’s cheek, and Sergio doesn’t breathe when he picks it and tucks behind her ear.

“You don’t know that.”

Her face rests against his chest, cheek pressed into the flannel of his shirt, hands wrapped around his waist. She doesn’t let go for a long time. Sergio even starts to worry that her bare feet might get cold on the marble floor.

“None of it is your fault, Raquel. You stood for what you believed. It wasn’t a mistake, it was just bad luck.”

“It was a choice,” she mumbles.

“System did this. Not you.”

“We have to get Paula away from them. Even if you have to trade her for me.”

“What?! No!”

This is a bad idea on its own, but coming right after everything else it sounds borderline dangerous. Has she decided that she’s not going to recover? This sudden realization slams against the back of his head, causing a pulsating ache.

“Please.”

“It won’t come to that, Raquel.”

He’d rather trade Paula for himself.

Everything is slower this morning, not just because he’s scared of every step they take or because his mind is still processing the mess around Paula’s talk show or President’s press release. It’s slower, because Raquel stops after every few steps and pauses after every word she says.

She pulls away from Sergio when he starts massaging her back, she cries when they begin her morning exercise, sinks down onto the floor when Sergio asks what she wants for breakfast, and then refuses to eat once the food is there.

Finally, he can no longer pretend nothing is happening.

“Raquel, what’s going on?”

“Is it green?”

Sergio studies her face, but she only repeats the same thing. Is it green? Confused, he looks around, frowns, trying to figure out what she refers to.

“This,” she nods at his chest.

“B-blue,” he replies hesitantly. His shirt is light blue.

She lowers her face and turns away. Sergio stands, stunned.

“Raquel, do you… do you see something?”

“Seems no,” she sighs and shrugs, uncomfortably rubbing her nose with a palm. She’s disappointed. He’s taken aback.

“But you saw something, right?”

Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up.

It’s too late, he already feels his chest filling up with excitement.

She shakes her head, then adds painfully slowly, “Shadows. My eyes hurt…” Raquel inhales and holds her breath, then adds, exhaling, “Very much.”

He nods and carefully touches her left temple, traces the eye brow tenderly. He wants to probe her further, but there’s a knock on the door, and Monica’s blonde head appears a moment later, asking Sergio to quickly come, because _everybody is ready_. He looks at her, confused. They didn’t seem to need him last night, so… what changed? Reluctantly, Sergio pats Raquel on her shoulder and is about to step away, but Raquel moves to a side and blocks his way.

“I will come, too.”

At first she looks straight in front of her, but as Sergio licks his lips, ready to lay out his argument against her presence, she lifts her head. There’s this determination mixed with pain that he recognizes all too well: she had the same face when he tried to leave her in Palawan… and then she had the same expression when he begged her to stay in Florence. He knows he won’t be able to change her mind right now either.

When they make it to the living room, everyone is already gathered.

“They have a plan,” Tokyo begins, “and it sucks.”

Denver laughs at her remark, Helsinki sips his beer. Sergio exchanges a look with Marseille, then looks at Alicia (Bogota sits right by her, and he looks like he’s ready to snap her neck any moment). She stares at Sergio, then rolls her eyes. Sergio glances at Raquel. Her eyes are half closed, but she’s present.

“We have enough manpower to get the girl,” Marseille begins. “But we need her location.”

Sergio helps Raquel onto a sofa and sits beside her. She stays on the very edge of the cushion, waiting to hear the plan, but it’s obvious that everyone is holding back. Finally, Alicia speaks up, earning a hateful look from Bogota.

“Oh, come on. The fastest way to get to Paula is if police takes us to her… Not all of us, but…”

“Me,” Raquel whispers. “They will take me.”

“Yes and no,” Marseille points out.

“That’s why they need you, Professor,” Tokyo sneers.

“The only way they’re taking you to your daughter immediately, is if they need to show off to the media. To declare it a win. So that must be the _only_ win they get,” Alicia states.

“What does that even mean?” Denver inquires when Raquel opens her mouth to – probably – ask exactly that.

“Well, clearly they don’t give a damn about a crippled kidnapped traitor slash hero. What they want is the Professor. And the only way _getting Raquel_ is a win is…”

“…Is if they fail to get the Professor,” Monica picks up thoughtfully.

“Precisely. Now, here’s the hard part. They might not be interested in taking him _alive_ , so they’ll just shoot him on the spot,” Alicia adds, and there’s silence in the room. “And then they’ll say he tried to hurt poor Raquel and bla-bla-bla, you know how it works.”

“It’s too dangerous. What if they shoot him the moment they have eyes on him? We need a different plan,” Tokyo points out.

“No,” Sergio cuts in unexpectedly, and everyone stares at him in surprise. “If Raquel insists on going in, I’ll participate, too,” he gives Raquel a calculating look, but she can’t see it, and it disarms Sergio to a certain extent.

“Nice of you to finally join the conversation, Professor!” Tokyo smirks. To his surprise, no one else makes any comments about his prolonged silence.

“You cannot pull it off on your own,” he folds his arms on his chest.

“Yes, we can,” Alicia pushes.

“At what cost, exactly?”

“It is a suicide,” Monica sighs, shaking her head slowly.

“Not if we do it right,” Sergio pushes up his glasses and leans forward. He feels back in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what can make me even happier than feedback? If you read this amazing Serquel fic. It's such an incredibly constructed story with exactly the characters we love in the show: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719028/chapters/62449549


	15. Guesses (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current chapter has three parts. Oops. Blame KarenDeidre for being too good at demanding everything to make sense (while I'm thanking her to the moon and back).  
> You can find me here, I'm always excited to chat about Serquel 😍 twitter.com/MariaPurt

“Now!” Sergio hisses into a microphone. Sun blinds him, and he raises a hand to cover his eyes to see what’s going on the far side of the park.

There’s a huge dog that’s just broke free from its owner and is now running towards them.

“Negative,” comes a response. “Not the right angle.”

“Shoot now, damn it,” Sergio shouts, looking around. Raquel leans closer, wrapping her arms around him, presses her chest to his shoulder. The white bandage on her hand shows from under the sleeve, making her skin look even paler. She’s scared. He wishes he could pull her closer, hold her tight to give her a sense of safety and certainty. But he’s about to get shot, and he can’t allow her body to be anywhere near his. As much as it pains him, he pulls away. He holds her hand, squeezing it tighter as if that can help. “Stay strong, Raquel. Please, I’m here,” Sergio whispers, afraid she’ll get an episode the moment he tells her what’s coming. 

A glimpse of confusion on Raquel’s face, she frowns. They both know she’s not supposed to speak or react in any way – they’re being watched.

There are three agents that Sergio can see several meters away, all armed. And there is a dog, a dog running towards him and Raquel, getting closer with every moment. Perhaps it’ll stay silent. Perhaps Raquel’s eyes don’t see well enough to recognize the beast. Time slows down, and Sergio can even spot saliva on the dog’s teeth. For a moment he considers grabbing Raquel, covering her both ears with his hands and shielding her eyes with his body to save her from a meltdown. But if he makes a sudden move, police will shoot him. If he is too close to her when he’s shot, Raquel gets hurt, too.

The dog barks, and the sound blows the air out of Sergio’s lungs. Raquel jerks to a side, breaks the contact with an almost inhumane force, the bandage on her hand slips through Sergio’s fingers. She screams like a wounded animal.

It all takes a few seconds, but feels like eternity.

“You’re not in position,” Sergio hears again, but he’s too busy trying to get hold of Raquel, forgetting all about the danger of getting shot. The dog runs past them, chasing a pigeon, but it’s late for Raquel – she’s crying and fighting, all while backing away from Sergio, dragging them both from the spot they have to be in. Sergio growls, torn between trying to comfort her and proceeding with the plan.

They need to make it two meters further before the sniper can get a clean hit. Just two more meters. As moments pass, there are more agents to be seen around. They are closing in fast, running. Raquel gets worse, crumbles onto the ground, covers her head with hands, yelling something incomprehensive. Absentmindedly, Sergio pulls at his hair as if trying to rip it off. He doesn’t even feel the pain. He needs to calm her, he knows he needs to calm her, but this is exactly what he cannot be doing this very moment.

“Shoot!” Sergio throws into the mike one last time and turns towards the sniper. There’s sharp pain in his chest first. Then a sound of a shot comes, but he’s already falling to the ground, his eyes fixed on Raquel’s convulsing features. Something’s wrong. It hurts too much. It shouldn’t hurt this much. He’s never been shot, but he imagines it should definitely not hurt so badly right now.

And there should not be so much blood.

_Should there be so much blood?_

Sergio’s back hits the ground, his head a step away from the dentures Raquel’s lost. Still screaming with her mouth wide open, she’s so pale, even though her cheeks and eyes are red.

Pain is too bad. Raquel’s out of his reach.

He hears shots fired, lots of shots fired, and if the pain weren’t this bad, he’d note how everything goes according to the plan… He tries to open his eyes, coughs. Pain. Fuck, is it supposed to be this bad? He still hears shots fired, but they are getting quieter, and then Raquel’s crying gets quieter, and then there’s nothing for him to hear at all. Just his heartbeat and hectic pained breathing.

**TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER**

“It is a suicide,” Monica sighs.

“Not if we do it right.”

“Shouldn’t you be on the reasonable side of this?” Tokyo sneers.

“Oh, come on. If the man wants to die for love, let him,” Alicia grins.

“No one’s gonna die,” Sergio retorts.

“If you say so, Professor,” Tokyo plays with her fingers and leans back in an armchair.

“So what exactly do you have in mind?”

“Glad you asked, Marseille,” Sergio smirks. “We’re gonna pretend we’re robbing something.”

There’s a mixed reaction to his words, and Sergio rushes to explain his idea. It will work, it should. They’ll need a few days to gather enough people and arrange the details. Raquel is not happy it will take so long. But she’s also afraid and that bit doesn’t escape Sergio’s eyes. She’s afraid of going back _there_ , no matter how hard she tries to cover it.

“But we won’t really rob shit, right?”

“No, Tokyo, we won’t. But it will be a perfect staging ground to give them Lisbon and keep all of us safe. We can’t let the police know we’re all in Spain.”

“Isn’t that kind of obvious when they find Lisbon in Madrid?”

“Why do we even want the girl so bad?” Tokyo interrupts. “She’s a kid. Her father works for the police…”

“He’s dangerous,” Raquel carefully states – so quiet it almost gets lost in the chatter. Tokyo looks at her, pressing her lips together.

They go back and forth until finally settling to proceed with the plan. It takes about an hour to choose what exactly they’re _not_ going to rob ( _nothing too big, or it becomes too meaningful on its own_ , Sergio points out). By the time they get down to details, Raquel is already exhausted: the flow of information coming down onto her head is too overwhelming, and Monica helps her get into the bedroom. Sergio follows into the corridor, watching them walk to the bed. He notes how Raquel bends and brushes the sheets with her palm before sitting down.

And then the bedroom door closes, and he goes back to the team. They continue.

Their discussion, though, soon gets interrupted by a yet another news piece (somehow it’s become a new normal to have the TV on at all times). It’s Denver who spots a familiar face on the screen and turns on the sound for them all to hear. Sergio takes a deep breath, glances towards the corridor as if afraid that Raquel might suddenly come back. There’s nobody there. Thank goodness.

The news anchor talks about Paula, briefly mentions her father being worried for her mental state. Then comes a statement from a therapist, claiming the girl has been moved from police custody to a psychiatric facility because of a mental breakdown.

_“It’s clear that Paula Vicuna has been through a major trauma, she is showing clear PTSD symptoms, and at this point predicting further developments is hard, but my professional opinion is that…”_

Sergio chews air, then blows out his cheeks.

They’re saying she needs her mother to stabilize her mental state. They’re saying she needs her mother as soon as possible. They’re saying they’ll have to begin medicating her if she doesn’t improve. They’re saying she’ll probably improve if she has her mother by her side. They’re saying all these things, and there is the ‘ _Reward for any information regarding current whereabouts of the Inspector Raquel Murillo’_ phone number at the bottom of the screen, and all of it just feels like an open threat.

_Or rather a message for Professor: show yourself, or we hurt the girl._

It all becomes even more so when there’s colonel Tamayo on the TV shortly after the doctor, saying how they are doing everything they can, but without help from public it might not be enough and _the girl’s mother may not be found in time_.

Sergio hears every person in the room gasp or say something, but he doesn’t pay attention. His focus moves from the TV screen onto drawer where he keeps his burner phones. He grabs one and walks away without saying a word.

 _The message is received_ , and now it’s his turn to tell the police and CNI and whoever else is on the other side of that phone number what will happen if they so much as touch Paula.

In search of some privacy, Sergio quietly crosses the bedroom, noting Raquel and Monica are in the bathroom, and steps out onto the terrace, fresh air cold against his face. This isn’t perfect, but this is the best he’ll get in an apartment full of people. He dials the familiar number again. And again. Attempt after attempt, the estimated waiting time doesn’t go below six minutes, and he is about to give up – after all, to arrange a meeting he doesn’t necessarily mean to talk to them. He can arrange it by dialing any police station or simply appearing in the centre of the city, wearing a red jumpsuit, and wait for the cavalry to show up. When Sergio is about to throw the phone away, hit it hard against the marble floor, he hears a click, and a robot-like voice guides him through the options.

“… if you’d like to leave an anonymous tip, say four. If you’d like to talk to a police officer, say five,” the voice concludes, and then begins the whole thing all over again.

“Five.”

“Please, hold. Estimated waiting time…”

That, again. Sergio clenches a fist with his free hand, annoyed. Hacking into a yet another show to force authorities to talk to him would probably be easier, but he cannot risk making a provocative public appearance right now. Public isn’t on his side. It’s on no one’s side. People are too tired of this whole confusion and mess. After all, the government didn’t really need to win this war. They just needed to exhaust the audience enough to make it not care who’s right.

“Please, state your full name for the record,” the voice comes back after about a minute, and Sergio takes a moment to consider his options. There aren’t many.

“Sergio Marquina.”

It takes longer this time, the whole five minutes, according to the watch on his wrist.

“Twenty-four hours, senor Marquina,” colonel Tamayo’s voice comes from the phone instead of a greeting. Sergio chuckles.

_Voice recognition software, of course._

“Good day to you too, colonel Tamayo,” he begins, forcing his voice to sound as calm as possible; presses his shaking hand with a phone to the ear. He’d prefer to deal with the bastard as the Professor, but no matter how hard he tries, he fails. This is too personal. This hurts too much. It burns inside on a physical level, the heat coming up to his eyes and cheeks.

“Twenty-four hours,” Tamayo repeats, “If we don’t have you and Murillo by then, the girl goes to a psychiatric clinic, and you know what happens then.”

“She’s innocent,” Sergio states with metal in his voice, but his vision blurs and his stomach feels like it’s falling down.

“And her ruined life is going to be on you, Marquina. The girl needs her mother… What’s left of her.”

“Release her,” his fake self control starts cracking down. Don’t they dare. Don’t they dare even try… He shuts his eyes, steadying his breathing. If something goes wrong with his plan, what happens to Paula then?

“You have no leverage. We already know you are both in Spain. It’s only a matter of time before we find you. Gonna take this country apart brick by brick if we need to. You have twenty-four hours to surrender.”

“You know we can’t do that. I won’t let you hurt Raquel further… But tell you what, if you release Paula Vicuna, I’ll surrender. Just me. And you let the girl and her mother go.”

Sergio hates this conversation. He hates the man on the other side, and he hates how unprepared he himself is.

“Tell me something, is she even alive? Murillo,” colonel goes on after a short pause. “Or did you take her to make a point and left in a ditch somewhere?”

“Why would you ask something that, colonel?” Sergio shrugs as if his opponent can see him.

“Because you’re a terrorist and a rapist, senor Marquina.”

“We both know that is not true.”

“Oh, but do we?”

“Unlike you and your people, I would never hurt innocent people.”

“Marvelous, then you will agree that the mother and the daughter should be together, right?”

“Indeed, colonel. You can release Paula Vicuna, my people will deliver her to her mother,” Sergio states, restoring some resemblance of self-control. But he sees how his hands are shaking wildly. He’s angry. He’s beyond angry.

“You son of a bitch, you think we’ll give you the innocent girl?” Tamayo explodes, “Haven’t you done enough? We’ll find you, both you and… her mother,” Tamayo’s voice goes down before he carefully pronounces the last words. Sergio can only guess what the man was going to say.

“You dropped all charges against Raquel Murillo, colonel. You went on national television and announced she was no longer wanted. You can’t hunt her like an animal.”

“We’re not looking to arrest her. She’s a kidnapping victim and a hero. And you’re the perpetrator…”

“A hero…” Sergio spats with sarcasm. “That’s how you treat your heroes?”

“We both know it was your people. They just couldn’t forgive her for that kid.”

Sergio opens his mouth to respond how outrageous this is, but Tamayo beats him to it.

“Anibal Cortes. In case you forgot. She gave him to us, because she needed to give us someone. Poor idiot didn’t want to give you up… If only she knew what you were capable of, I bet she’d handled it differently,” he laughs with disdain, “You didn’t really think that after two years we somehow picked up some signal from him, did you? We’re not magicians… Just how stupid…”

“What if I am not a perpetrator?” Sergio cuts him off. He’s not going to let himself get pulled into a yet another argument that won’t solve anything. Colonel’s new attempt is even more ridiculous than before.

“You’d have to surrender yourself to prove that, senor Marquina.”

“Only me!” Sergio spats.

“No! And may I remind you, the clock is ticking, and you only have twenty-four hours to surrender yourself and bring Inspector Murillo, you know how the things go for the girl if you don’t,” he barks, finally losing his composure, and hangs up. Sergio frowns, staring at the phone. Tamayo hasn’t given him enough – throwing this conversation to the public won’t prove anything.

Fuck.

Sergio smashes the phone against the floor, his vision so blurry he can’t even see the pieces. He pants, tries catching the air with his open mouth. It isn’t working. The more he breathes in, the hotter his lungs get – until they start burning, and he instinctively presses palms to his chest and falls onto his knees. How much worse is it going to get before he crumbles? He feels like crumbling _now_.

He doesn’t remember how he makes it inside the bedroom. He spots Raquel lying in bed, fast asleep, as he rushes past her, nausea taking over. Sergio empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet, and the next thing he registers is a white pill on his palm as he pulls it closer to his mouth. He bends lower and drinks water from the tab to push the pill down his dry throat, water splashes all over his face. His breathing heavy, Sergio washes his face, again and again, hoping it’ll make him feel better. He doesn’t know how much time he stays like that, just watching the water run, but at some point he hears Raquel’s worried voice far in the background. It mixes up with all the noises in his head.

It’s quite possible that she isn’t even there, talking. His mind is jumping between all the darkest places it can find, pulse bangs in his temples, hands tremble under the running water.

Sergio leans down, resting his weight on a sink. He waits for the meds to take effect. They take forever.

How did he get to this place, how did they all get to where they are right now? He should’ve fucked the system, not the other way around.

When the noise in his ears subsides and his vision comes back, Sergio turns to look into the bedroom. He almost jumps in surprise. Raquel is standing right in the doorway, alone, her face still sleepy, eyes half closed, hand on the open bathroom door. She’s silent.

“Sergio?” she calls him quietly, and he realizes she’s been doing that for quite some time now. She’s pale, shaking. What the fuck has he done?

“I’m sorry, Raquel,” he rushes to her side, almost tripping over his own numb legs.

“Are you okay?”

“I…” he’ll have to lie. She can’t know any of what has just happened, she shouldn’t. If it’s too much for him to handle, it will certainly be too much for her as well. “I’ve cut myself,” he forces a smile onto his face. It’s a bitter grimace of a broken man. “Nothing serious, just needed some cloth and water.”

She raises her eyebrows. She knows he’s lying. Or does she not? He studies her features, stares at her face until it becomes unbearable. All the scars on her skin that he’s stopped noticing now come back to scream at him.

_Your fucking fault._

He looks away, there’s a ghost of him in the mirror, a ghost that cannot help the people he loves.

 _Poor Paula._ Have they all lost their minds?

It’s not even a question. He looks back at Raquel. Of course they have. A human being in its right mind would never do something so horrible to anyone. He walks her back to the sofa and sits beside her, desperately needing all the comfort he can find in her embrace.

“I need this plan to be perfect. I need it to work,” he whispers, his voice unsteady. “I cannot let you down again, let Paula down. I have no right…”

“You won’t, Sergio,” she soothes him, and this feels so strangely reversed it sends shivers down his spine.

“I’m so, so sorry, Raquel. What happened, all of what has happened to you, it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t do this to me.”

His head on Raquel’s lap, Raquel’s hands caressing the back of his neck and shoulders, Sergio closes his eyes, remembering Paula’s happy face back when they moved to El Salvador and bought furniture for their first house. The ridiculous round bed she chose. The rug she then refused to vacuum clean. The sea shells she put onto the walls. The _‘Mom would have loved it here’_. The _‘grandma and I made this for you, Happy Birthday, Sergio’_ …

How has he failed to protect any of the people he cares about? First Andres, then Raquel and now his – their – daughter?

This thought gets stuck in his head: he shifts slightly, turns to a side without breaking their contact and reaches for the tablet on a coffee table. Unrealistically hopeful, Sergio checks if his people have found any trace of Paula’s biological father. Alberto might be a bastard, but he wouldn’t let his daughter get harmed. Or would he?

There’s nothing. No sign of him since yesterday. He must already be with Paula. Fuck. It would be so much easier if they could just follow the guy to wherever authorities are keeping the girl.

“How bad is it?” Raquel finally asks in a whisper, her mouth next to his ear, her arms still around his body.

He lies. Tiredly, he parts his lips and pushes words that aren’t truth through them. He prays that Raquel believes him. As he speaks, he feels the meds finally kick in: his mind becomes clearer, his panic fades away.

There’s only boiling rage left, and it takes more than he’s got not to explode in front of Raquel.

Tamayo’s pushing them all to act too soon. They can’t. They are not ready.

A good plan needs time. A perfect plan needs a lot of time… With no time to arrange and sort things out there are way too many variables that can go unpredictably wrong. They’ve seen it happen during the robbery at the Bank of Spain.

**tbc**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serquel music video, based on this story:  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=pXcxFSQ0w_U


	16. Guesses (part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biggest of thankyous to KarenDeidre for pushing and kicking and even promising me a cake for finishing this fic. You’re the best fanfic-co-smoker on the planet! And thank you to the generous readers who found strength and inspiration to leave cool feedback. Ultimately, that is the only reward a ficwriter gets for tens of hours of hard work (well, that and a cake lol).
> 
> If you feel uncomfortable leaving a public comment ot just wanna chat about Serquel, you can find me here, I'll be happy: twitter.com/MariaPurt

Meds do their job, and Sergio sees the picture from outside the box. And the more he looks at it that way, the more he thinks Tamayo’s bluffing. There is no way authorities would cause a long term damage to a minor just to get back at him, not when they are so vigorously pretending that he’s the bad guy. But when he shares his thoughts with everybody else (making sure Raquel stays back in the bedroom and cannot hear them), Alicia doesn’t hold back (none of them are holding back as Sergio approaches the living room – he can hear yelling and cursing and mutual blames).

“Didn’t you hear what the man said?” Alicia interrupts him with an ‘are you an idiot?’ face. “And don’t give me this look. You dragged me here for my opinion, so here it comes. That bullshit about Paula’s mental breakdown is nothing but a threat to actually hurt her if you don’t deliver,” she speaks fast, drilling Sergio with her eyes. “So, no. You can’t wait. Tamayo doesn’t joke.”

“Our plan needs more time,” Sergio states calmly, but Alicia’s words bring back his own fears and uncertainty momentarily. He can only deceive himself for so long. This is the Bank of Spain all over again: he is letting emotions lead to a disaster, he knows he shouldn’t, but cannot stop nonetheless.

“If you don’t listen to me, what’s the point of ruining my life and turning me into a fugitive? Might as well just send me back and deal with your mess on your own, _Professor,_ ” she goes on, spiting the last word like a bitter cherry.

“We need a new one,” Sergio mumbles under his breath, lost in thoughts. A new wave of yelling comes, and he clearly sees Bogota pull at Alicia’s hand when she’s about to say something. He whispers something to her ear, a threat most probably, judging by his face. “No time to arrange a robbery, so it will be just Raquel and I. In a public place. With a back up,” he gestures with his hands, processing the thought as he voices it.

Rushing is never good. But seeing what has been done to Raquel, Sergio can’t risk it, even if he doubts – deep down – that Paula’s father would allow any permanent damage to be done to his daughter (that is, if the guy really is with his daughter, and hot hidden somewhere just to make sure he stays out of the way, Sergio notes).

“They will shoot you on the spot, Professor,” Helsinki makes a comment and shrugs.

“If they are not afraid to go on national television and threaten a kid, they won’t follow rules,” Marseille agrees.

“They can’t do it if the world is watching, Right? _Right?”_ Monica pleads. “We call the press.”

“Yeah, and then a rogue sniper puts him down on live television,” Alicia spats with sarcasm. “We’ve seen that one before, haven’t we, Professor?”

Sergio nods. This problem can be solved, but it’s going to hurt like hell. They cannot risk hoping the police will play by the book.

After a few minutes of contemplating possibilities and trying to think of a better solution, Sergio shares his idea. Nobody’s happy about it. Nobody argues with it, though.

“We’ll need our own sniper, then,” Bogota points out.

“One that we can trust,” Sergio nods, noting how Alicia rolls her eyes theatrically, touching her temple with an index finger, and spells with just her lips ‘ _psycho’_.

The hardest part is, though, telling all of this to Raquel. He heads to the kitchen and pulls a huge cup of ice cream from the fridge. If Raquel isn’t willing to eat actual food today, perhaps, he can convince her to have some of this (he refuses to admit that he’s trying to get her into a comfort zone before breaking the news).

As determined as Sergio feels entering their bedroom, that, however, fades away as soon as he turns off the audio book and calls Raquel’s name. She screws up her eyes, pointed at him, and Sergio shifts from one foot to another, both palms pressed to the ice cream cup.

“I missed much?” she asks in a small voice, yawning and stretching her arms. She jerks, visibly in pain, quickly rests her hands on the lap.

“No, not at all,” Sergio shakes his head before thinking, then presses his lips together, terrified of what he’s just done.

It has become so natural for him to keep things from Raquel, to pretend that all is good, shield her from everything that is heading straight to hell that it started happening automatically. _Except, right now Sergio should’ve told her the truth._

He takes a deep breath and holds the air in his lungs for as long as he can, a cup of ice cream in his hands slowly melting.

“What are you wearing, Sergio?” Raquel asks suddenly, her eyes blinking rapidly.

Sergio looks down as if he’s forgotten what he has on him. For a moment there’s tense silence in the room, and then Raquel’s lips spread into a smile (even though not a very clear one), and Sergio bursts out laughing.

“Not the librarian pajamas, I assure you,” he chuckles and shrugs innocently, sitting next to her.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, really.”

She tilts her head, her eyes on him (but he can’t quite tell if it’s because he’s sitting straight in front of her or because she actually sees something). Raquel reaches out to him, her fingers bump into his neck, then rest on the collar of his shirt.

“White?”

“Almost,” Sergio exhales when he realizes he hasn’t been breathing for a few seconds now. “Light green. Wait… Does it mean that…” He knew she wasn’t seeing complete darkness before, but this new notion is… well, _new_. There was absolutely nothing before, and now it’s her second attempt at color guessing, and Sergio just cannot let it go so easy this time. “Something’s changed, hasn’t it? You see more? How? When? What…” he trails off when Raquel grimaces and covers her eyes with a palm, rubbing them vigorously. “They still hurt?”

He pulls her hand away from her face, and Raquel nods, screwing up her eyes, sighing, “Everything is so bright now.”

Sergio is about to say how this is great news and how it means her sight is eventually – probably – going to come back (even though he was and still is going to have a doctor check her eyes as soon as they are in Switzerland), but a cold drop falls onto his pants, reminding him he’s absentmindedly bent the ice cream cup.

It makes him freeze with his mouth open.

“Do you… Do you want some before it melts? Ice cream, I mean ice cream.”

He’s awkward. That lie he’s just told her, it’s just going to complicate things now, so he’s grateful when Raquel happily accepts his offer and slightly opens her mouth for the first spoon. She doesn’t insist on eating it by herself, though. Too tired, borderline exhausted.

“I give Paula ice cream, when she’s upset,” Raquel says slowly, correcting her words as they come. She licks a drop off of her lower lip and smiles.

“Paula actually made me get her a _dog,”_ Sergio laughs back, “the white fluffy one that leaves a lot of hair everywhere. And she tricked me into thinking she’d clean, but it just kept jumping onto the bed out of nowhere, can you imagine…” Sergio laughs softly, lost in happy memories, and doesn’t notice at first how Raquel’s relaxed smile fades away, replaced by horror. The ice cream drops run down from the corner of her mouth onto her chin and then her blouse. Sergio feels Raquel’s hand on his - it tenses and goes cold. Pulled back into reality, he stops talking, frowns and hurriedly puts the ice cream away. Sergio leans closer to look at her face. Her eyes are dark, lips tremble. “Raquel?” he calls quietly, squeezing her hand for attention. “Raquel, I…” What did he say that set it off? They were just talking about Paula, and Raquel seemed happy and relaxed, so what… Raquel breathes deep, her face slowly becomes whiter. “I’m so sorry, Raquel, I should’ve known,” Sergio mumbles, brushing her cheeks. “I’m here, right here, sitting beside you, just listen to my voice, please. We’re in Madrid, we…”

She moans and pulls her hands to her cheeks, takes a deep breath, throws the hair away from her face and rubs her eyes.

“Wait,” she pleads, her face pointed at the floor.

Raquel raises her hand as if to stop Sergio from whatever he was about to do. Her fingers tremble, and it seems she’s bending them, counting something silently. He waits, watching her breathlessly, each tiniest move of her fingers knocking a nail into his temples.

Slowly, colors come back to her cheeks, and her teeth are no longer gritted.

“I’m sorry,” Sergio repeats, seeing the changes. She shakes her head, her eyes still closed.

“They had dogs,” she whispers in a way one would take a scary fairytale at a late night fire in the woods. “Dogs,” she coughs.

“What?” Sergio lets out, confused, before he realizes what she’s saying. He bites his cheek and scratches his beard.

“Dogs…” Raquel repeats, her voice even weaker, almost down to wheezing, her nose and eyes bright red. “They…”

Sergio’s mind paints him a picture before Raquel says anything else. His eyes wide, he feels the air stuck in his throat, unable to go up or down. He gasps. This is the first time Raquel is talking about any of it, and he’s both relieves and terrified of what he might hear.

“You are not there, Raquel,” he tries. He honestly has no idea what he should be saying to her right now, all the knowledge he had moments ago, all the books and articles he’s read – it’s all gone, leaving his mind blank and hazy.

He wishes he could tell her to stop thinking about it, to forget and never look back, but that’s not how it works. He squeezes Raquel’s shoulder, but doesn’t pull her any closer. He chooses to see her face as she goes on.

“They killed. Pri…pris… prisoners,” she sniffs and swallows, “dogs… they… people. Into pieces. Kids!” she cries out, gasping for air, her face twisted, hands shaking in front of her face as if she’s showing something to Sergio; something he cannot see. “Hungry dogs… Always hungry… I was… The blood…”

With every word Raquel pushes through her lips Sergio feels colder. He feels like he’s becoming smaller until there’s nothing left of him at all. Her words are hard to catch, but they are enough. He chooses not to interrupt her speech, as messy and hectic as it gets, just keeps brushing her shoulders. Having witnessed what she’s witnessed, it’s no wonder Raquel is so mortified right now. Sergio’s imagination transforms the fluffy maltese Alma they left in El Salvador into the big angry monsters Raquel’s just described, and he shivers; finally pulling Raquel into embrace.

She’s hyperventilating and her body is shaking. She isn’t crying, not in a normal way at least. Her trembling resonates in Sergio’s body, her back feels sweaty under his touch, and he knows he’s covered with cold sweat, too.

This is going to be such a terrible timing to send her back into the lion’s den, even if only for a few hours. It can have devastating consequences. He hates it, he hates it all.

As time passes, Raquel slowly calms down, clinging tighter to his body.

Reluctantly, he walks her to the bathroom and they carefully remove dirty bandages from her face to wash off the drying tears and ice cream. She barely stands on her feet, swaying from one side to another, and Sergio holds her by the waste with one arm.

“You’re so much stronger than anyone I have ever met,” he admits while wiping the puffiness under her eyes with a tissue. Under normal circumstances he’d prefer to cuddle in bed with her until she falls asleep. Good rest would help. These are not normal circumstances. He can’t waste several hours to let her sleep it off.

He knows he can’t, and yet he finds himself helping her change into her pajama and walking back to the bed. Raquel doesn’t turn away like she normally does. She rests her head on Sergio’s chest, her body pressed to his side, and he wraps his arms around her as much as he can reach. He tells her small silly things and then realizes she’s fast asleep, snoring out loud.

When Raquel wakes up an hour later, she looks pale and disoriented, blinking rapidly, her pupils dilated. Sergio helps her into a sitting position, carefully massaging her stiffened neck. They shouldn’t have skipped their morning routine today, his unwillingness to fight with her now causing Raquel even more discomfort.

When she seems to feel better, he offers to go to the terrace to get some fresh air.

They walk slowly and stop in front of the door, both of them hesitating whether it’s a good idea (or so he thinks, when Raquel stops, but she’s still unsteady on her feet after sleep). Then Raquel nods, leaning closer to Sergio’s body with hers, and they carefully step outside. The soundproof door behind them, they immediately find themselves in a street chatter. Sergio looks up into the sky – it’s going to rain soon, he can already smell the humidity in the air. Raquel inhales slowly, rubbing her eyes, and then shivers, wrapping her arms around her body. It’s fresh outside, borderline cold. Sergio takes off his jacket and puts it onto her shoulders without saying a word, then pulls her back into his embrace. They stand in the middle of the terrace, listening to the sounds coming from the street.

“It smells like home,” Raquel mutters. “Like Palawan. It sounds different.”

Sergio nods absentmindedly. Then moos for Raquel to hear. It does smell a lot like Palawan’s wet season. Except, Madrid is much colder.

“Where is our home now?” she turns to face him, her pupils moving hectically, unable to focus.

“That depends,” Sergio answers after clearing his throat. He promises himself to do his best at telling Raquel the truth from now on. “If all goes well, we will be able to live anywhere we want. Even here,” he smiles tiredly, but his voice is not sad. “If not…”

“Thank you,” she cuts him off, and he stays with his mouth open for a few more seconds before he realizes she doesn’t want to hear the other alternative. Whether knowing he was willing to give it to her was enough or she is actually afraid to hear _that_ option, Sergio doesn’t know.

He stands still. Time is running out.

How do you tell a woman who’s been through so much that your newest redaction of the rescue plan includes you getting shot? On purpose. In front of her.

He can’t delay it longer - they only have so much time to prepare her.

“There is something I need to tell you, Raquel. And you are not going to like it,” he begins, turning his head as much as possible to see her reaction. She frowns, and he goes on, speaking slower and quieter, “Police is closing in on our location, so we’ll have to move up our plan. A lot. We do it tomorrow.”

“Oh… But…”

Sergio fixes his glasses with one hand and presses the other one tighter to the small of Raquel’s back. She’s taken aback, silent; considering her answer. Breeze plays with her hair

“We’ll do our best,” Sergio offers, but it doesn’t sound too reassuring. They are not just risking _his_ life. They are risking their all lives, and this isn’t even the grand plan that would grant them all freedom.

“You hate it,” she states with uncertainty. “Yes?”

He hates not having enough time to prepare. He doesn’t know what to expect from her when she hears the latest version of their plan. Sergio gets ready for a fight, but she’s too tired for that. Raquel just stands silent as he speaks.

“This is the best option,” he concludes.

“You promised you’d not leave me!” she pushes, syllable after syllable, through her trembling lips and shakes her head. Sergio pulls himself together, ready to rush back inside the apartment if Raquel melts down. He hopes it doesn’t come to that. “Don’t risk your life. Must be another way,” she pleads.

“This is the quickest and most certain, Raquel. I owe this much to you and Paula. None of this would have happened if I stayed away from you in Hanoi that morning, Raquel, if I didn’t think my heist was more important than…” Sergio begins and stops, because it suddenly feels too much like a goodbye. It shouldn’t be. It isn’t. “You know, deep down, that this is going to work. Our sniper will shoot me before the police do, and then I’ll disappear in the heat of a fight,” he caresses her chin. He doesn’t worry about getting shot. He worries about leaving her in the hands of the Police, even if just for a few hours until they take her to Paula and his people extract them both.

“You can’t die. You promised,” Raquel sniffs.

“I won’t,” Sergio responds calmly. The last thing they both need is to dive into uncontrollable emotions.

Yet, he somehow feels he’s losing it, his sentimental side taking over. He leans closer to Raquel’s face, his hands on her arms, moving up slowly. His lips rest on hers briefly before he carefully deepens the kiss. Startled (no-no, she’s not startled, more like scared to hell), Raquel inhales sharply through her nose. Bandages on her face make it harder for her to open her mouth, but she parts her lips just enough. Sergio moves carefully not to push the dentures in her mouth with his tongue. It feels strange, so very strange to finally kiss her after all this time.

It feels even stranger to be kissed by her in response, because in all the dreams he’s had she never ever responded to him.

He thinks he controls every smallest thing that goes on at this moment, but suddenly realizes that Raquel’s hands are on the back of his head, deformed fingers going through his hair. She hums something. When he opens his eyes, hers are still closed.

When they’re done, rare rain drops are falling onto their heads and faces. Sergio returns Raquel to their bed, and she rests her head on his lap. It takes long for them both to get back to what’s going to happen tomorrow…

“For your own safety, you will pretend to be unresponsive,” he points out, and Raquel’s eyebrows fly in surprise. She’d give him a death stare if she could see him, Sergio knows. “We don’t want them to think you are dangerous to them…”

“But my daughter…”

Yes, she’ll want to hug Paula, he’d want that, too. It breaks his heart to need her not to. If Raquel is to stay safe, she’ll have to ignore her daughter completely.

“No, please, Raquel. For once, please,” he is ready to beg her if he needs. This is so, so important. “Please, just follow my lead and do what I say. Whatever happens, don’t let them realize you understand what is happening. Or…” he trails off. If CNI so much as smells she can tell the world what they’ve done to her, she’ll disappear. He somehow is absolutely sure Paula hasn’t mentioned her mother’s recovery to them. “Promise me, Raquel.”

(Truth is, even if she did, who’s going to believe a teenager who went along and lied about the past eight years of her life?)

Raquel promises him nothing.

It’s later than evening, when Helsinki and Marseille escort Sierra to a public location that Helsinki’s researched and prepared to record a video confession (one that will ensure she can’t just say she was just a hostage) and Raquel is safely in the bedroom, listening to an audiobook (something Sergio still opposes, because words, phrases and intonations can be triggers, but Raquel insists and he gives in), that he receives news from his IT team.

_This conversation was on a secure line, it took some decoding._

The gang members that are still sitting with him in the living room, polishing up tomorrow’s plan, give him a long look. Sergio swallows. They won’t let him listen to the recording alone. Annoyed, he opens the file, letting the quiet sound fill the living room (but not get out of it).

“Colonel. I just heard you and Marquina. That was desperate, colonel. How comes one man is a step ahead of you and your people for so long?”

“He’s a lucky hijo de puta,” Tamayo spats.

“Surely it has to be more than just luck.”

There’s silence on the recording, and Sergio quickly walks to the door, glances inside the bedroom: Raquel’s hasn’t moved from her armchair, still listening to the book, her back straight, her face concentrated. Carefully, he closes the door, the sound of Tamayo’s voice on the recording comes on top of the creak of the doorknob:

“He isn’t that far ahead.”

“For your own sake, you better be right.”

“CNI shouldn’t be cleaning this mess, it’s not ours,” Tamayo fends off.

“It is now,” male voice responds. “Fix it… And, colonel? Don’t cause a war in the centre of Madrid this time, would you?”

 **“** You’ve seen it, public isn’t buying the whole undercover agent story, even with Murillo’s daughter in the picture. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Release another statement? Say it wasn’t us who tortured her, so let’s all forget about it? _Hey, remember Raquel Murillo, an Inspector gone rouge who we said was shot dead, resisting arrest five years ago? We lied. We actually lost her on the way to our secret prison in Africa where we torture people. Sincerely yours, Spanish Intelligence._ Yeah, that’s gonna play very well in the media!”

“Don’t dramatize it, colonel. Just wrap up this Murillo mess before it’s too late.”

“It _will_ be over in the next forty eight hours, trust me. Once and for all,” Tamayo’s voice in the speaker goes down to a threatening whisper, and Sergio moves his gaze between everybody in the room.

They are all silent, staring at the computer. What Tamayo’s just said is slowly sinking in. Unsure who the other speaker on the recording is, Sergio sends a message to his IT team, his mind is restless. _They… lost her? They lost Raquel, they lost her, CNI lost her, who had her then, who had her this whole time and why…_ His heart pounds in his ears, and this is when all of it suddenly makes sense. He frowns. _Sons of bitches!_

“Professor?” he hears Denver’s voice. “That file isn’t over,” he points at the screen, and Sergio realizes he’s stopped the recording half way.

Taking a deep breath, Sergio clicks on it, and they all hear Tamayo’s and stranger’s voices again, but as the recording goes on, Sergio isn’t listening. His mind is busy calculating their next step. Clearly, CNI is using Paula as a bait. Clearly, they are waiting for the Professor to attempt some kind of a rescue mission, they can’t be dumb enough to think he’ll just surrender himself to be killed or tortured (or both). Clearly, Tamayo thinks that the CNI plan is better than Professor’s.

But… Is it?

Sergio hates how Paula’s unexpected arrival takes a toll on everything. They cannot even wait it out and use the element of surprise; they have to act exactly when police expect them to. Shit. He swallows hard.

“Professor?” Sergio hears Tokyo’s voice, but the sound is as distant as the recording that’s just ended. “Professor?!” she repeats louder and claps her hands in front of Sergio’s face to pull him back into reality. He clears his throat and nods, signaling for her to go on. Tokyo’s annoyed. “What the fuck was _that_ about? They can’t say they lost Lisbon five years ago, that makes no fucking sense! They had her, we _know_ they did!”

“Well, no, not necessarily,” Sergio mumbles. “Someone else might have. It seems there had been a car accident… A third party must have ambushed Lisbon’s transport on the way to prison…”

“That is far fetched,” Bogota cuts in.

“I don’t get it,” Denver shakes his head.

Monica gives his a look, raising an eyebrow. He freezes with his mouth open, visibly ready to say more.

“No-no,” Sergio pushes, tying pieces together in his head. “It’s a reasonable assumption. Five years ago police caught Raquel and faked her execution. They expected this to be enough to destabilize us and ruin the robbery…”

“Well, it kind of worked, didn’t it? We couldn’t take the gold.”

“Yes, Monica, it did, to a certain extent. But we still escaped,” Sergio raises his index finger to emphasize his words. “So they decided to do to Lisbon what they did to Rio: ship her off to a foreign country and…” he trails off. No one needs him to say it out loud, they all know.

“Soooo, why would anyone want to kidnap her from the Spanish Intelligence?”

“For the gold that we stole,” Sergio explains uncomfortably.

“We didn’t,” Bogota points out drily.

“No, we did _not_ ,” Sergio pushes up his glasses nervously, nods to himself. “But whoever took Lisbon, wasn’t aware of that… In fact, when you think about it, whoever _thought_ she knew how to find two billion euros of gold had more motivation to want Lisbon than the Spanish Intelligence.”

“Oh fuck…” Tokyo grimaces, scratching her chin. “CNI announced that _we_ took it!”

“Precisely,” Sergio sighs. “And even after they pretended to have found it, they still claimed we had kept two billions.”

“Motherfuckers…”

“Two billions in gold is a valid reason to torture someone for five years,” Bogota concludes, disgusted. Everybody looks at him. There’s a tense silence in the living room.

“Why do I feel like this is even worse…” Monica begins, but cannot finish her sentence.

“Because it freaking is!” Tokyo interrupts. “Lisbon was tortured for crap she didn’t know! This CNI dude should’ve been, bet he knew where the fucking gold was!”

Sergio grits his teeth.

Sons of bitches.

Liars.

“This really means war,” he states coldly, but his blood is boiling up.

Not just a war against CNI or the Spanish government, but against Tamayo, the person who has caused all this. Sergio clenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

Had Tamayo not said that, had they not claimed that Professor’s gang had two billion euros in gold, whoever tortured Raquel would’ve had no reason to harm her.

Sergio rubs his eyes.

But then.

That third party would have had no reason to ambush her convoy or kidnap her in the first place, so Raquel would have ended up in a secret prison anyways. This situation was bad, no matter how you look at it…

“So let me get this straight. Some mysterious third party had Lisbon for five years, didn’t get the location of the gold from her, didn’t kill her either, and then just what, released?” Bogota clarifies, skeptical.

Sergio tilts his head. The fact that someone who had Raquel for five years simply threw her out of a car next to the Spanish Embassy isn’t the only odd thing.

Back when Sergio stole Raquel from the hospital, the doctor said her injuries were long healed, except for fingers and jaws. _What was it, exactly_ , Sergio presses his memory for answers. The recent ones couldn’t be older than four months, is it what the doctor’s said? And the rest: the ribs and arms, and scull… All of that happened years ago. Sergio wonders if, perhaps, he misunderstood, but he knows he didn’t.

This part is odd too.

He shakes his head, then looks at the bedroom door, baffled. It’s open. He rises to his feet and hurries inside.

“Where’s Ra… Where’s Lisbon?”

There’s a confused chatter in the room and everyone looks puzzled. How did none of them notice when the door opened? Monica rushes up onto her feet and into the bedroom, Denver follows her.

“She’s not here!” she shouts from the bathroom.

How the hell did they not see Raquel walk past them? And even more importantly, how did she do it? Sergio frowns at this thought. He rushes past Tokyo and out of the living room, the hallway… Raquel couldn’t have gone far.

When Sergio runs into the kitchen, he manages only several steps from the doorway – just enough to get a view of the space behind the counter – and freezes, stunned. There’s blood on the floor, and there’s a knife lying next to Raquel’s hip, and her knees are bent, feet pulled to her chest. She’s holding her wrist with her fingers, blood coming from her hands onto her pants and shirt.

“Fuck, Raquel, what have you done?!”

He grabs a towel from the counter and kneels by her side, Raquel lifts her face, puffy eyes pointed at Sergio’s face. She murmurs something that he can’t understand. Heartbeat is pounding in his ears. Blood on the floor and on Raquel’s clothes looks so red.

“It just slipped,” she mumbles, raising her hands. Squeezed between her two palms, Raquel still holds an apple, deep cut marks on its sides. Sergio looks closer: blood isn’t coming from where he initially thought. She didn’t cut her wrist, it’s just her palm. He exhales with relief, drops down into a sitting position and shakes his head, adrenalin still flowing through his veins.

This was close.

“I found her!” Sergio shouts towards the door. “I found Lisbon! Everything’s fine!”

There’s Tokyo in the doorway as he’s finishing his sentence, and Sergio shakes his head to her, his face stone cold. She disappears as silently as she came, leaving the two of them alone. He briefly wonders if she’s going to tell everybody the truth or make something up. At least no one else shows up, and Sergio breathes out with relief…

It’s a scary thought, but he has to admit he wasn’t any bit shocked. Terrified, angry even, but not shocked or even surprised, and that realization is a lot to unpack.

Taking a deep breath, Sergio picks the apple from her, noticing how it’s all red, throws it to a side and presses the towel to the wound, his hands immediately covered in red, too.

“Ay-y-y…” Raquel hisses and wrinkles her nose, showing the white of her dentures.

“It’s deep,” he states, glancing at the floor. He’s torn between being horrified, relieved and furious. What was she thinking? And then, “why… How did you even get here?”

Raquel rubs her cheek against her shoulder, winces, then blinks a few times. He squeezes her wounded hand harder to stop the bleeding. They sit for awhile – or at least it feels that way, because Raquel just can’t stop sniffing, even when he lets go of her hand and pulls her closer, resting her head on his shoulder. This feels so familiar, it gives Sergio shivers.

They sat just like this, on the porch of their house in Palawan the first night they had Paula and Marivi there. The day had been a disaster, with a lot of Paula’s whining and tears and Marivi’s confusion, and in the very evening Raquel somehow lost it back then. She yelled at her daughter, sending her off to bed, and then threw a plate onto the floor, rage boiling inside her. Sergio still remembers standing in the doorway, watching her hyperventilate, her eyes searching for something else to throw as well. And then he remembers them picking up the pieces of glass from the floor. Raquel cut her hand badly that night, he had to put two stitches before they managed to stop the bleeding. And then they sat on their porch, listening to the waves, Raquel’s head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her body, _just like now._

 _“Have I made a mistake?”_ Raquel asked him back then, raising her head to face him. _“Am I really a horrible mother for bringing Paula here?”_

 _“No,”_ he shook his head, covering her wounded hand with his palm. _“You’re just a very tired one. You are her mother, you do your best to keep her safe. Even from the dangers she can’t yet see. She’ll come around.”_

 _“I love you,”_ Raquel said back then, hiding her face against his neck, her eye lashes tickling his skin. She’s doing the same thing now, humming something very familiar, even though there is no salty breeze coming from the stormy water.

“I love you,” Sergio whispers, kissing the top of her head, but Raquel merely moos in response. She’s half asleep in his embrace, the weight of the day on her shoulders. Sergio glances at the towel that is now soaked in blood, pulls it away and checks the cut. At least they won’t need stitches.

Sergio puts bandages on Raquel’s arm and quietly sneaks her into the bedroom; washes the kitchen as if nothing happened, desperately wishing to ask where she spent the last five years and who had her if it wasn’t Spanish Intelligence; and why her injuries are all long healed except for the recent few; and how she came around to have those new ones; and if the people who made her watch the dogs kill children were after gold or something else; and why they let her go in the end...

He knows he can’t.

He changes Raquel’s clothes and cleans her: she’s too exhausted to do any of it by herself – stands there like a ragdoll, barely keeping her body upright. This has been too much, all of it today. Sergio sighs, looking at her pills; they would make it all go away, even if for a short time. He knows she’ll refuse to take them, and for a few moments he contemplates tricking her into taking them anyway.

He doesn’t dare.

Closing the cabinet with meds, Sergio knows it’s going to be a rough night.

It is, but not because of Raquel. She sleeps until the morning, pressing her body to his and resting her wounded arm on the pillow. It’s him who cannot let the worries go. He stares at the wall, tracing the dim lights from the outside with his eyes, his mind overwhelmed with all of today’s revelations and fears of what’s to come tomorrow. He has so many questions he cannot ask Raquel right now and so many doubts he can’t afford to show her that he barely closes his eyes when the sun starts rising.

They both wake up late and skip the morning routine: no washing, no exercise and no massage. Raquel takes a few sips of the cream soup he’s made for her the day before yesterday, then they get her dressed. Sergio can see she’s tensed: if all goes well, she’ll meet her daughter very soon, and he won’t be there to help her get through it. He closes his eyes, willing the ‘ _what can go wrong’_ images away.

They walk out the door and head down to the staircase. _“It will only be for a few hours,”_ Sergio repeats again and again as they get into a taxi and head to the suburbs of Madrid. He lets go of Raquel’s hand to check his phone, but she leans closer to him. Their sniper is already in position. Now it’s time to send out a word to authorities and press.

“Promise you come back,” Raquel whispers as the taxi starts slowing down.

**THE END OF PART ONE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two other Serquel stories I’m currently posting (and enjoying it so very much), so maybe check them out if you haven’t yet? 
> 
> Toy Soldiers Marching and I Remember Paris are not as dark as this one. 
> 
> As to Fifty Shades of Lies, I’ve been trying very hard to go on with it, but it’s just not working (so this story is not going to be continued). I’ll focus on the other two fanfics I have started. Hope to see you there! Thank you for your support and interest in this story.


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